To Die Would Be an Awfully Big Adventure
by RedButterfly33
Summary: Tinkerbell got off the bike and leaned against it, waiting impatiently. At 4:28:52 she thought that if her best friend was not out those gates in fifty-eight seconds, she'd break in to get him. At 4:30:08 a sharp horn cut through the air, and a crack appeared between the the big prison gates. As the gray slabs gave way, a grinning Peter Pan took his first steps towards freedom.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is a modern day AU, where everyone is human and there is no magic. The Lost Boys and the Redskins are street gangs, the Mermaids' Lagoon is a Hooters-like establishment, and Hook runs a shipment business which masks his criminal activities. Rated T for mature language and themes, though there is nothing explicit.  
**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

Gravel crunched under the tyres as Tink brought her Harley into a stop before the tall granite walls of the prison. She took off her helmet and looked up, eyes going over the barbed wire coiled on top like a nest of black snakes. What a depressing place. A glance down at her wristwatch told her she was just on time — it was 4:28. And yet, the gates remained shut. What were those bastards waiting for? Were they really gonna release him on the dot?

Tinkerbell got off the bike and leaned against it, waiting impatiently. At 4:28:52 she thought that if her best friend was not out those gates in sixty-eight seconds, she'd break in to get him. At 4:29:27 she was mentally going over the escape route and trying to remember the number of that one guy with the fake passports. At 4:30:08 a sharp horn cut through the air, and a crack appeared between the the big prison gates. As the gray slabs gave way, a grinning Peter Pan took his first steps towards freedom.

They had released him in the clothes he was arrested in, which was to say a too-tight-for-him-now green shirt and jeans ending a few inches above his ankles.

Tink almost doubled over but managed to keep the laughter bubbling inside her to a snort. "Peter Pan, the free man," she teased when he was close enough. "You shrink your clothes in the washing machine? Or did you decide to take up ballet?"

He took the last few strides at a run. "I'll show you ballet!" he said playfully and scooped her up, spinning her around as she laughed. "Oh, it feels _good_ to be outside!" he said when he put her down, stretching his arms. Looking her over, he added with a grin, "You've put on weight, Tink. You're heavier than I remember."

"That's because I was fifteen the last time you tried to lift me," she replied, smiling at his teasing and handing him the spare helmet. "Now get on. We're going for doughnuts."

"Aaaand now we know why you're heavy," Peter quipped.

Tink swung her leg over the seat. "Do you want to run behind the bike, Pan? Some exercise will help you fit into those clothes."

"Nah, exercise reminds me too much of prison," Peter returned lightly, getting on behind her and putting on the spare helmet. "When did you even get this?"

Tink stepped on the pedal and the engine roared beneath them. "Dunno," she said thoughtfully. "When I was seventeen, I think, so two years ago? It was after you got in the slammer."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Peter asked, his arms encircling her waist.

"You never asked," Tink replied with a grin. The bike spat gravel behind them as she took off, hitting 100 mph in less than three seconds.

Peter crowed loudly when they finally cleared the prison grounds.

* * *

o

After about half an hour's journey back into town, Tinkerbell parked her Harley Davidson outside The Dough Nut, her favourite fast-food joint.

The bald man behind the counter greeted them with a smile when they entered. "Hey, Pete! Good to see ya again, my boy!"

Peter shook hands with him and grinned. "Good to see you too, Murry. Lost the beard, I see. Did it finally gain sentience and crawl away?"

Murry's smile grew. "Nah, the missus got me to shave it off; you know how women folk are."

Peter's jaw fell. "You got _married_? Give my deepest condolences to the poor soul you've tricked into having you."

Murry's laugh thundered in the almost empty diner. "You're still the same cheeky little brat, ain't ya. Glad you're back." Then he turned to Tinkerbell. "The old usual, then, Tink?"

"You know it," she said, heading towards their old booth.

Shortly after, a tired-looking waitress brought them the usual — two cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes, and a dozen chocolate-glazed doughnuts. It was what they used to have before Peter got caught, though nowadays Tink only passed by for the doughnuts.

The next few hours were spent in sweet, sweet indulgence, even if the burgers were on the greasy side. Tink didn't care; she loved this place.

"I can't believe you're still making me come to this shithole," Peter said playfully, watching Tink take an enormous bite from her chocolate doughnut. "Go to a Dunkin' Doughnuts; they at least have some sort of sanitation standards."

"Shut your face," she mumbled, mouth still full. Then she swallowed. "It might be garbage, but it's _my_ garbage. You don't see me getting on your case about the stuff you eat."

His smile turned bitter for second. "That's because I've been eating prison food for the last five years."

Tink reached over, took some of his fries and flung them at his head. "Drama queen. I brought you plenty of food."

"Yeah, cold food," he muttered.

Tink rolled her eyes, sinking back into the booth. "Well excuuuuse me, Princess. You weren't complaining the ice cream was cold."

"You've brought me ice cream a total of two times!" Peter protested, throwing some fries right back at her. One got stuck in her bun, but she didn't bother to remove it.

"Fiiiine. I'll treat you to ice cream after this next job I have lined up for us. Heck, I'll treat _all_ the Lost Boys if we can pull it off." Tink took a sip from her milkshake. "They're very excited to see you again. The Twins have been practising a new knife trick; they can't wait to show you."

Peter's face grew uncharacteristically serious. "Listen, Tink... I'm not going back to The Lost Boys."

Tink gaped at him in shock. The fry slipped from her hair. "What do you mean you're not going back? You can't just _quit_ your own gang!"

He played with the straw of his drink, avoiding her eyes. "You've been doing just fine without me."

"We've been _waiting_ for you _,_ " she countered. "I've just been keeping things together until you get out."

"That's just the thing, Tink," Peter said. "I don't want to go back in again. You know I passed my GED in there, and I started studying..."

Tink huffed and crossed her arms. "Law? Seriously? You're going to leave the life to become a _lawyer_? You want to be like the assholes that put you in there in the first place?"

"That's prosecutors," Peter corrected her, pointing with a fry. "I want to be a public defender. Help kids like me so their options aren't just jail or a life of crime." He popped the fry in his mouth. "I want to go clean."

Tink stared at him intently for a second, not saying a word. Then she sat up straight again, leaned over the table and stole a fry. "Alright," she said, biting off half of it. "Clean. Does that mean a legit job, then? I can pull some strings."

Peter shook his head. "I want to make it on my own."

"Are you sure?" Tink asked, raising an eyebrow. "It won't be easy."

Peter grinned. "Just the way I like it."

Tink laughed but simply shrugged. "Whatever you say." Then she downed the rest of her milkshake and stood up. "It's getting late. We should get you home."

Peter got up too, following her out the door. "And where is that, exactly?"

She threw him another smirk over her shoulder. "You'll see."

They got on the bike and drove, through the grimy, litter-covered streets of the city, past the fancy private villas and run-down ghettos, following the coastline as the setting sun coloured the sky in pink and orange.

Tinkerbell brought the bike to a stop right where the sidewalk turned into sand, and the engine quieted.

Peter took off his helmet. "You didn't build me a sand castle, did you?"

The headlight went dark. "Don't act like you wouldn't love it," Tink teased, getting off.

"That didn't answer my question, Tink!" Peter called after her, but she just laughed.

They made their way through the sand dunes to a wooden surf shack by the beach. Tinkerbell reached into the pocket of her black leather jacket and fished out a key ring. The lock clicked easily and they walked in, Tink flicking the lights on. The first floor had obviously been a shop at one point, but they didn't linger, and Tinkerbell led the way upstairs into the living space.

"It's not fancy, but it'll do," she said, letting him look around. She could have gotten him an apartment somewhere in the city, but Peter had always loved the beach, and she thought he'd appreciate the open space after so much time behind stone walls (not to mention that it would make it harder for his old enemies to find him).

"This is _way_ better than a sandcastle," Peter said, tracing his fingers over the surfboards lined up against the wall. Then he turned to Tink, just in time to catch the keys she tossed at him.

"It's yours," she said. "Clothes," she said with a nod to the closet. "Ones that actually fit. Food," another nod to the fridge, "in case you get hungry. And money," she added, throwing him a brown leather wallet, "in case you need anything else."

Peter opened the wallet and counted the couple of hundreds in there.

Tink stepped closer and gave him a shiny new iPhone. "Use this if you need to reach me; it's untraceable. My number's already in there, and my address is programmed into the GPS. The password is 'Neverland'. And yes, it has games. Go nuts."

Peter grinned like a child on Christmas and ruffled her blonde bangs. "Good job, First Mate Tink! You've thought of everything."

She laughed. "Had a lot of time to prepare, Captain Pan." Tink glanced at her watch. "Gotta go now, I have to stop by the Crocodile at nine." Yeah, okay, she was supposed to stop by at eight, but Peter was a priority. "I'll check on you later."

Peter's face instantly turned serious, and he grabbed her arm as she turned away. "Wait. Don't tell me you're still working with that psycho?"

Tink raised an eyebrow. "Peter, _you_ established a working relationship with him. I've just been keeping it going. He's a lucrative partner."

"He's out for himself," Peter said. "The only reason I was working with him was because I thought he'd help me bring down Hook, and look where that landed me. He's unpredictable, loyal to the highest bidder. He'd be just as likely to help you as he is to turn on you."

Tink rolled her eyes. "As are most thieves. Don't worry, I've only been working with him occasionally."

"That stops," Peter said firmly. "Tonight. Try to keep it cordial, but this is the last job you're doing for him. He's too dangerous."

Tink thought that he was overreacting but nodded anyway. "Last one."

Peter's features relaxed as he let go of her, and something like guilt flashed over them. "And Tink... Tell the Boys—"

"I'll handle the Boys," she said, zipping up the jacket. "They won't bother you unless you go to them."

His smile was still guilty but a little relieved. "The doughnuts will be on me next time," he called as she started down the stairs.

Her laughter echoed from below.

* * *

o

The Crocodile was a big man. Not big as in fat, big as in _enormous_. Six feet tall, bald, always dressed in leather, the middle-aged loan shark was as wide as a barn, and all of it was pure muscle. Rumour was that he used to be a boxer when he was younger, and the tall grandfather clock in his office reminded him of the rhythm of hitting a punching bag. Tink had sometimes wondered if maybe that was why people said he was crazy — this loud ticking would drive anyone insane.

The office itself was spacious enough, but it felt cluttered thanks to his knack for collecting and displaying rare and shiny things, like some sort of demented magpie. His other habit — expensive cigars — did nothing to help with the claustrophobic atmosphere of the room, and Tink had to wave her hand to disperse the smoke when she entered.

"You're late, little fairy," the Crocodile said from the big leather chair behind his desk, smiling unpleasantly.

"Traffic," Tink lied smoothly, reaching into an inside pocket of her jacket. "I'm here, aren't I?" She tossed a small paper package to him.

He put out the cigar and opened it. "And how is the traffic doing after five years behind bars?" The Crocodile poured the diamonds out of the package and onto the desk, then took one and held it up against the lamp light. His mouth stretched into a satisfied grin. "You should have brought him with you; I'd love to catch up."

Tink shrugged casually. "He just got out. Wants to settle in first, get used to not looking over his shoulder."

The Crocodile snickered. "Well, that won't happen any time soon. I'm sure certain people will want to seek him out once the word spreads. I myself have something particularly well-suited for his skillset."

Tink approached. "I'm sure a lot of people do, but he's not about to jump into high-level jobs before he works off the rust." Then she casually perched herself on the desk, crossing her legs. Voice dripping with suggestion, she added, "Is there anything _I_ can do with my skillset?"

The loan shark's eyes moved away from the diamond pile, slowly crawling up her thigh. His toothy grin grew even more unpleasant. "There might be, little fairy." He stood up. "There might be."

Tink plastered a seductive smile onto her face, and her boot travelled lightly up his leg. "But first," she said softly, "there's something you owe me." She held up a hand.

The Crocodile chuckled low in his throat. He reached down and opened a drawer of his desk, giving her a manilla envelope.

She opened it on the spot, counting the banknotes inside. His giant paw fell on the other side of her thigh, trapping her. "Need to make sure you're not ripping me off," she muttered, more to herself than to him, as his heavy weight shifted so hard it made the desk creak when he leaned over her. "Well, they don't _look_ fake at least," Tink said, flashing him a grin, then deftly slipped under his arm and headed to the door. "Nice doing business with ya," she called over her shoulder.

"Let me know when you're ready for a new job," the Crocodile called after her, his voice more amused than frustrated.

Tink waved vaguely, not even bothering to turn around.

The street outside the car wash the Crocodile used as a front was empty and littered with everything from discarded beer bottles to used needles. It wasn't a very prestigious location, but then again, the Crocodile wasn't anyone's first choice.

Tink made her way over to where her bike was parked and drove off, carelessly exceeding the speed limit. Headlights and street lamps passed her by in a blur as she made her way through the familiar roads, taking sharp turns down dark alleys, between run-down buildings and more city trash.

The bike came to a stop under the broken, flickering street light in front of the Lost Boys' hideout. Music thumped from inside as Tink walked up to the green door and pressed down on the handle. The security system—her own design—kicked in, cutting off the music and activating the metal grate, which slammed shut on the inside. Feet shuffled behind the door, and a voice asked,

"What's the password?"

Tink looked straight at the hidden camera above and said, "Eat shit, Slightly."

A snicker sounded from the other side, accompanied by the various clicks and clanks of the locks coming undone. The door opened and Tink walked in, taking off the leather jacket and swinging it over her shoulder.

The hideout used to be a club or a lounge of some kind before they took it over. When the gang grew to more than eight members the old place became too stuffy, so Peter had bought this off from a guy named Georgie. In typical Peter fashion, the place looked more like a playroom then a gang headquarters — pool tables, arcade machines, skee-ball, darts, all manner of video games, score boards—all topped by Peter—and an open bar (always stocked).

"Tink!" the Lost Boys exclaimed when they saw her. A quick glance around the room told her they were all here.

"Tink!" Curly called over the crowd. "Where is Peter? Is he coming?"

Looking at all these happy, excited faces made a heavy ball form at the pit of her stomach. "Gather 'round, Boys," she said, making her way through the room.

Way at the bottom, on a podium that might have served some purpose once upon a time, was Peter's Seat — a big brown massage chair they had found on the street years ago that Tink had been able to make functional again. It had been the first bit of furniture they brought when they moved in, and absolutely no one but Peter was allowed to even think of using it before he got in jail.

Tink sat down, running her hands over the armrests. Even after five years of sitting in it, she still thought of it as 'Peter's Seat'. She had never considered herself the leader of the Lost Boys; it had always been Peter, even if he wasn't there, and she had only been keeping things going in his name, waiting for him to return. And now... he didn't want to.

"What's up, Tink?" Second Twin asked as the Boys crowded in front of the chair, sitting down on the ground.

"When is Pete gonna come?" First Twin echoed.

Tinkerbell sighed and leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees. "Listen, Boys. Peter isn't coming back."

A wave of shock rippled through the gang.

"Those bastards didn't let him go?!" Slightly exclaimed angrily, slamming a fist on the podium. "We're breaking him out, right?"

"Of course we are," Nibs added. "We're not gonna let them keep him there! Right, Tink?"

All twenty-three angry faces turned towards her expectantly.

Tink sighed. "That's not it. He's free... but he doesn't want to lead the gang anymore."

The reactions fluctuated. Some still showed anger, some shock. Tootles looked on the verge of tears.

"Get a grip, Tootles," Tink threw towards him with a frown. "You're twenty years old, for fuck's sake."

"Why is he not coming back?" Nibs cut in. "He's our leader! He's supposed to _lead_!"

"He wants to go clean," Tink said.

"So he's abandoning us," Slightly said angrily.

"Watch your tone, Slightly," Tink warned. "And he's not abandoning us. He's choosing to do something better with his life, to help street urchins like us have a better future."

One of the newer kids snorted. "And you believed that? Puh- _lease_ , that asshole is clearly out for himself! He probably wants to go solo so he doesn't have to look after the rest of us and fed you that lie so you wouldn't pulverize him on the spot, Tink."

Instantly, the air in the room changed.

Curly sprang up, overturning a nearby table. The beer bottles on top of it shattered loudly as they hit the floor. "You wanna repeat that?" he growled threateningly, face contorted in anger.

Others followed, rising from the ground. The Twins cracked their knuckles, Nibs bared his teeth in a snarl, and Slightly fingered the knife at his hip. Even Tootles, a guy everyone had repeatedly told was too sweet to be a gangster, was on his feet, bouncing a baseball bat in his hand. The Twins threw glances at Tink, just waiting for her nod.

Tink's face, however, was blank.

She stood up, slowly, and stepped down the podium. The Boys parted before her like the Red Sea. As she passed Tootles her fingers brushed over the bat lightly, and it came away from his hands easily.

"Those are some words, Greenie," Tink said, swinging the bat over her shoulder. "You sound like you speak from experience. You and Peter tight?" The kid shook his head, his face pale. The danger in the air was almost palpable. "I'm guessing," Tink continued casually, examining her green nail polish for chips, "he saved you from the gutter, like he did with most of us? Did he take you in when you had nowhere to go?" Her voice was deceptively sweet. "Did he steal a scrap of bread for you when you were dying of starvation on the streets?"

Without warning, the bat swung through the air, colliding into the kid's jaw with enough force to break it.

He fell to the floor with a bloody _thwack_ , and Tink slammed her boot onto his face. "Because if he hasn't, keep that flapper _shut_." She ground her boot into his cheek. "Never. Insult. Peter Pan. In front of me. Again." The boot came off, and the bat swung into his stomach, making him curl up with another pathetic whine. "Anyone else have a problem with Peter?" Tink said loudly, looking around the room. A few heads shook, but no one made a sound. "Good," she said, swinging the bloodied bat over her shoulder again. "His return is not up for _debate_. He said he's not going to, and if any one of you bothers him, I will do more than break your face." She glanced down towards the newbie, still writhing in pain on the floor. "Got that?"

Everyone nodded.

Tink spared one last disgusted look at the whimpering creature at her feet, then turned around and walked back to Tootles. Shoving the bat in his hands, she said, "Someone get that green fucker out of my sight." Then she continued towards the bar and added, "He's on cleaning duty for the rest of the year."

The Twins picked him up and carried him away. Curly and Nibs set the table right, Slightly put the music back on and everyone resumed whatever it was they were doing before Tink came in. She took down a bottle of rum from behind the bar and poured herself a glass.

"So he's really not coming back?" Tootles said, perching on a bar stool on the opposite side.

"He's really not coming back," Tink said, taking a big gulp.

"Then… what do we do?"

"What we've always done, Tootles," she replied. "We pick up orphans. We rob places. We defend our territory. We keep trying to take down Hook. We party with the Mermaids and get in fights with the Redskins. We do our thing. We survived five years without Peter, we can do it again."

"And we really aren't allowed to see him?" he asked, heartbroken.

Tink looked away. "It could create problems for him. He wants something more than… _this_." She waved around the room vaguely. "He wants to grow up." Tootles looked down. Tink poured him a glass and slid it over. "If he has need of us, he knows where to look. And when he does, we'll be here."

Tootles glanced at her, smiled faintly and downed the whole drink in one breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

 _One cold winter 10 years ago…_

"Gotcha!"

A hand gripped Peter's neck and yanked back, but he gritted his teeth and made no noise. The stolen goods slipped from his hands and scattered to the ground.

"You little rat," the owner of the voice growled, shaking him. "You're the one that's been stealing from my truck for the past week!" A knife blade pressed against his throat. "Hook was going to have my head for this, but I think he'd accept a substitute."

"I know, my head is so much better-looking than yours," Peter said. His fingers curled up around the hand holding the blade, and in one smooth movement he stepped back into his attacker, his other hand landing a punch straight in his groin, then rising up to nail an elbow into the guy's chin. Wringing the knife away and stepping outside the guy's hold, Peter kicked the back of his knee, causing the attacker to go down with a loud yelp.

"Thanks for the knife," Peter said with a grin, pocketing it. "Now I feel bad I didn't get you anything."

The fourteen-year-old thief's eyes darted to the loot scattered about, but although the truck driver was down, he was clearly not out. Bending down to grab the first thing he could see, Peter made a run for it, chased by the curses of his adversary.

After he was sure he was safe enough distance away, Peter turned sharply into an alley and hid behind a dumpster. Crouching down in the snow, he examined the only thing he had managed to steal and cursed under his breath. It was a packet of tofu.

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He wouldn't be going back to those supply trucks anytime soon, now that they knew he'd been targeting them. His eyes wandered up to the sky. The sun was about to set. Peter stood up, clutching the tofu in his hand. It would have to do.

He tucked it safely away in his worn jacket and started down the snow-covered street, making his way to the corner where he had told the girl to wait for him. A smile of relief bloomed on his face when he approached, spotting her on the exact spot he had left her. As he got closer, though, his expression morphed into worry. She was just sitting there, leaning against the wall… strangely still.

"Look what I got you, Tink!" Peter said jovially, kneeling in front of her and taking out the packet. "It's called 'tofu'. A rare treat, you'll love it. It only grows on this island in the middle of the sea, and it takes ten men working day and night for a week to make it. Only the richest of the rich ever get to try it."

The little girl's eyes fluttered open, and her small hand reached for the food. "Oh, really?" she said, smiling weakly. "Wow, thanks, Peter! I've never heard of this thing before… Is it sweet?"

"It's the best thing you'll ever put in your mouth," he said confidently. "I've had it lots of times in the orphanage." Then his eyes fell on her feet, and he frowned. "What happened to your shoes?"

"Oh, they broke apart," Tink said. "The shopkeeper came out and tried to chase me away, so I had to run and hide, and the bottoms just fell away." She licked her lips in anticipation as her hands struggled to open the package, and Peter noticed that her fingers were blue. As were her lips. And her toes.

"You don't get to eat that yet," he said, taking the package back. "You can't just eat a delicacy like that with your hands! We have to make it a proper feast."

"But, Peter," Tink protested weakly, "I'm too tired to go anywhere. I just want to sleep..."

"You can't sleep when there is adventure to be had," Peter said, keeping his tone light and happy, despite the fact that his heart sank heavily. He turned his back to her and beckoned, "Hop on. I'll give a piggy-back ride, since it's a special occasion and all."

The little girl didn't complain, and her arms encircled his neck. "Is it very far away?"

"Not at all," Peter said, rising to his feet. The nine-year-old wasn't much heavier than a sack of potatoes. "We'll be there in no time."

"Okay," she muttered into his neck.

Peter looked up and down the street, wondering which way to go. The sun was already starting to set, and something told him Tinkerbell would not survive another night in the cold, tiny and barefoot as she was. He had to get her to a shelter. Somewhere. Anywhere.

His eyes soared over the buildings. There was a convent, he knew, on the outskirts of town. If the rumours were true, the order of nuns living there was forbidden from contact with boys or men, but maybe they would take Tink in for the night. It was quite the walk to get there, but he thought that if they took a shortcut through Kensington Gardens, he might just pull it off. Mind made up, he started towards the park.

By the time he finally made it to the big iron gate, it had been almost half an hour since sunset.

"Where are we going, Peter?" Tink asked when he veered off the path, cutting straight into the trees.

"I told you. To a feast," he said, his breath coming out in white puffs.

"But where?" Tink insisted, her voice growing more and more faint.

"In Never Never Land, of course," Peter replied, saying the first thing that popped into his head.

The little girl on his back shook with a light, tired giggle. "Neverland? You're making that up."

"Am not," Peter insisted, trying to plough through the increasingly high blanket of snow. "Neverland is a real thing. And there's a feast waiting for us there. And there's treasure, and adventure, and evil pirates, and all the cake and ice cream you can eat."

"Is there tofu there?" Tink asked, making him chuckle.

"Mountains of tofu."

"Sounds like… a dream..." she said, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

Peter stopped. "Tink, don't fall asleep. You have to stay awake, okay? Otherwise we aren't ever going to make it."

"But I'm tired..." Tinkerbell whispered.

"You can't sleep." Peter repeated firmly. "Not yet. You have to be awake to look out for bears."

"Bears?" The sleepy girl's head lifted up slightly.

Peter nodded, continuing on his way. "Bears. What if they attack us on the way? I need you to be my lookout."

This seemed to rouse her enough, because when she replied with "Aye aye, Captain!" there was a bit more energy to her voice. It didn't take long though for that vigour to give way to exhaustion again, and Peter couldn't stop thinking about how cold her skin felt against his neck. He had to hurry.

The trees just seemed to go on and on forever. As the light of the park lanterns faded more and more, a flicker of doubt snuck into Peter's head. What if he was going the wrong way? The teen shook his head, mentally rebelling against the notion. No, he was right. He was going to make it, and Tink would live through the night, and first thing tomorrow he would sneak into the department store and get her new shoes.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, dragging his legs through the thick snow, the teen almost fell over when his foot caught on to something. He stopped, trying to regain his balance. Clearing away the snow somewhat so he could see what in the hell he could have tripped over so far into the woods, the young thief was surprised to find a circular metal valve. He knelt down, inspecting the sealed hatch beneath it. Pulling on the valve proved futile, and he was about to give up and continue his journey when a hole in the middle caught his eye. A lock!

Peter smirked and threw a look over his shoulder. "Hey, Tink, look what we found! Pass me one of your bobby pins, and let's see where it goes." The girl didn't reply. "Tink!" Peter repeated, panic starting to seep into his chest. "Tink, wake up!"

"I'm not asleep..." she said weakly but made to sign of movement. "Just… tired..."

Peter didn't wait any longer and pulled out the pocket knife he'd snatched from Hook's goon. He stuck the blade in the lock and turned gently, applying pressure on each side until he heard a barely audible click. Then, with a fair bit of effort, he turned the valve and lifted the heavy hatch. It revealed an endless tunnel, with a metal ladder leading straight down into thick darkness. There was a switch near the top, and when Peter flicked it, a low hum sounded from somewhere below. A light came on at the bottom of the tunnel.

"Are we… there yet...?" Tinkerbell muttered into his neck.

"Yeah, Tink," Peter said, already sliding his feet into the hole. "We're almost there."

Down and down they went, until they reached a low-ceilinged room. The air was stale but warm, and the hum he'd heard before was coming from a crude generator in the corner, which seemed to be directly connected to the light bulb shining overhead. There wasn't much of anything in the room — a wooden cabinet, a shelf stocked with cans, a simple cot, and a table with two chairs. Peter gently laid Tink on the cot and made for the cabinet. The lock took only seconds to pick, and he almost laughed in relief when he found mouldy old blankets inside. Grabbing three and a few cans, he went back to Tink and wrapped them both up, using the blade to carve the cans open.

"You can sleep later, Tink. Have some dinner first."

The word 'dinner' seemed to draw her out of the stupor somewhat. Maybe it was because they didn't have that much to eat, but he'd never known Tink to _not_ be hungry. Her nose twitched as the smell of food hit it, and she sat up, reaching for the beans. A few cans and some warm time under the blankets did wonders for her complexion, and Peter silently thanked himself for having the brilliant idea to trudge through the woods.

"Is this Neverland?" the little girl asked halfway into her fourth portion, looking around curiously. "You were right, I didn't even notice when we got here."

Peter laughed, relieved to see a bit of life return to her. "Yep, this is it. Didn't I tell you there was a feast?"

"But what about the adventures you were talking about? Where are the pirates?"

"Pirates can't get into Neverland," Peter said. "This is a safe place. No one can get us here."

Tink leaned her side into Peter, and he wrapped an arm around her small frame.

"Tell me a story about pirates," she said.

"Alright," he replied without missing a beat. "This is the story of Captain Pan, scourge of the eleven seas, who commands the mighty ship _The Jolly Peter_." Tink giggled next to him. "He and his faithful sidekick, First Mate Tink, made sailors soil their pants just with the mention of their names! First Mate Tink was a tall, burly man, ugly as sin, with rotten yellow teeth, half of them missing, and one wooden leg."

"Heeeeey," Tink whined, poking him in the ribs. "I am not!"

Peter couldn't resist the laughter bubbling inside him. "Who's telling this story?"

"That's not fair; I'm not an ugly man!" Tink protested. "This story is stupid."

"Hey, you asked for it!" Peter reminded her, unable to wipe the teasing smirk from his face.

"Yeah, but you're being a butt!" Tink replied and poked him with the fork. "Make me a girl!"

"Fiiine, fine, fine," Peter conceded. "First Mate Tink was a beautiful pirate girl, and all the men in the land wanted to marry her, but she disembowelled them all with her sharp trident, so she remained an old shrew."

"Peeeeteeeeer," Tink whined, but this time he shushed her.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Tink pouted, only adding to his amusement.

"As I was saying," the teen continued, "Captain Pan was the most feared pirate to ever live. His greatest nemesis was another pirate, a Captain named… Hook. Yes, Captain Hook was a fierce adversary, trying to foil Captain Pan at every turn and steal his booty." Tink giggled again at the word 'booty'. "One day, when Captain Pan was robbing a merchant on the dock, Captain Hook stole the _Jolly Peter_ with First Mate Tink aboard! The brave and daring Captain Pan mounted a great rescue, by sneaking aboard the ship and taking out all the enemy pirates in a sword fight." Peter made swashbuckling cuts through the air as if he were holding a sword. Then he turned his voice unnaturally high pitched and said, " _Go, Captain Pan! You're the best swordsman in the world_ , cried First Mate Tink." Then he lowered it to a deep baritone. " _We'll see about that!_ said Captain Hook, challenging our hero to a duel. They fought fiercely for three days and three nights, until finally, Captain Pan cut off Hook's hand and fed it to a shark."

"Yaaaay!" Tink cheered.

"And then Captain Pan rescued First Mate Tink, got his ship and sailed away to Never Never Land, where they lived happily ever after."

"Best story ever," Tinkerbell said, putting away the empty can and snuggling up to Peter. "When do we get to eat the tofu?"

"Tomorrow," he said, leaning back against the wall. Now that he was warm and full, the exhaustion of the day was catching up to him with full force. "Sleep now, Tink."

"But who will watch for bears?" she muttered.

"There are no bears in Neverland. Sleep. We made it."

* * *

o

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Tink twisted around in bed and swatted at the stupid alarm clock so hard it fell to the floor. Not that she cared. Getting back into her comfortable position, she coiled an arm around the warm, naked body next to her. She truly hated mornings.

Something else buzzed on her nightstand, and she frowned but reached blindly for her phone. Opening her eyes with some effort, she recognized Peter's name on the screen. A quickly tapped password unlocked the phone and revealed a new text from him.

 _ **Surf's up, Tink! Water's great!**_

 _ **Come meet me at the Shack so I can show you my new move.**_

"I have to go," she said, propping herself up on her elbow.

"Stay," the man in the bed said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "It's too early."

"It's from Peter," Tink reiterated, slipping away from his grasp.

He made a dissatisfied grunt. "Forget Pan. Every time that damn phone buzzes in the last two months you just drop everything and take off. Let him do his own grunt work for once."

"He doesn't call me to do grunt work," Tink said, rummaging through the drawers for a swimsuit.

His eyes lingered on her naked ass, and he smirked slightly, but his voice was still bitter when he continued, "Pan doesn't own you. Stay here, you know you'll have more fun with me."

Tink laughed out loud. "You think so, do you? My, Jack, what a big ego you have!"

He got out of bed and padded over to her, pressing against her from behind. His hands wrapped around her wrists, anchoring them to the front of the dresser. "That's not the only big thing I have," he purred in her ear.

Tink laughed again, but this time there was significantly less humour in her voice. "Just because I let you do that in bed, doesn't mean I'll hesitate to rip your balls off if you're still touching me in three seconds." Knowing that the threat was not made lightly, he backed away. Tink turned around, and her eyes swept over the sculpted, muscular body of the man before her, a small smirk pulling at her lips. Her hand reached up and brought his face close for a kiss. "You're a great lay, Jack. But don't ask me to choose between you and Peter, because you will _always_ lose that fight."

His handsome features twisted into a frown. "What voodoo magic has that guy placed on you? On that whole gang? He hasn't even shown his face since he got out of prison, and they were all willing to draw blood for him last night. What did he do to inspire this undying loyalty?"

She laughed. "You don't really expect me to give away Lost Boy secrets to a Redskin, do you?" Her fingers ran through his long, black hair affectionately. "There wasn't any magic in the works, Running Jackal. Your idiot buddies started running at the mouth last night, and we shut them up. Just because Peter doesn't lead us anymore, that doesn't mean you get to badmouth him."

"We were on _your side_ ," Jack said, frustration seeping into his voice. "All we did was have a few with you and point out what a dick he's been."

Tink's hand shot to his own junk and squeezed painfully. "What did I just say?" she said, twisting. He gasped in pain. She held him there for a few seconds before letting go, and he panted heavily when she did. Tink walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor and threw the boxers at him. "Now get dressed and get a move on."

"I'm serious, Tink," Jack insisted, putting on his underwear and looking around for his jeans. "We all respect the Big Chief, but if he hasn't led in five years and then decided to leave us for his own selfish reasons, we wouldn't exactly be starting bar fights in his name."

"It's not the same with the Lost Boys," Tink replied, pulling on a tank top and a pair of shorts over the swimsuit. "Peter wasn't just our leader. He's our hero."

He had never set out to form a gang. It just sort of… happened. First he saved her, and for a while it was just the two of them, trying to get by. Then along the way they picked up Slightly, Nibs, the Twins, Curly and Tootles. Before they knew it, Neverland couldn't fit all of them, and there were more orphans out on the street to recruit, more mouths to feed. They became a gang out of necessity.

Running Jackal huffed. "Some hero," he said, slipping his t-shirt on. "Leaving his own gang."

"We aren't like you," Tink said, going over to the mirror and gathering her golden hair into its usual bun at the top of her head. "You chose this life. You chose to be in a gang. You have a family, and a home, and an education. Somewhere to go back to, if you wanted. We don't. All we have is each other. And Peter." She put on a pair of sunglasses and shoved a towel in her beach bag. "If it wasn't for him, all of us would be dead on random street corners."

Deciding that was enough backstory, she grabbed her keys, opened the door and held it there for him. The answer seemed to have satisfied him, because he didn't ask more questions and willingly got out of the apartment. Down on the street in front of her building, Tink gave Running Jackal one last kiss, then got on her bike and drove off.

Twenty-five minutes later, she parked on the sidewalk and pulled up her sunglasses. At 11 AM on a Thursday most people were too busy to frolic on the beach, so she guessed that the one whacko surfing the waves was probably her best friend. Tink stood up, beach bag over her shoulder, and made her way to the lone umbrella set up in front of the Shack. A surfboard was stuck in the sand next to the white-and-blue towel, and she eyed the pink flowers on it in distaste.

A laugh drew her attention to the sea. "I see you like the board I picked for you," Peter called, running up to meet her, his own lime-green surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Should have known you'd pick the girliest one," Tink replied, but a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

When he came near enough, Peter shook his wet head like a dog, splashing her with cold seadrops and making her shriek. "Yep. So grab the girly board, drop the bag, and let's have a surf-off! I just managed to master surfing on my hands, you gotta see it!"

Tink did as he said, slipped off the tank and shorts, and followed him into the water, spending a few hours trying to out-do him — a futile endeavour if there ever was one. Every time she tried hand-surfing, she just ended up slipping and falling in the water, with Peter laughing from above. Eventually, he consented to teach her how to keep balanced, and by the time she mastered the move it was already late afternoon.

Peter and Tink laid on their towels after their last race, covered in water and breathing heavily, their surf boards towering in the sand behind them.

"I will beat you... eventually," she said, putting on the sunglasses again.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night," Peter teased.

"It's been awhile since I surfed," Tink said defensively. "I'm just out of practice."

He scoffed. "Please. There were no waves in prison; however long it's been, that excuse won't fly with me. Not to mention that those greasy doughnuts do not help your case."

"Shut up," Tink muttered, too tired to reach over and smack him. "I'm still skinnier than you."

"That's because you're younger. Just you watch, by the time you're twenty-four you'll be a flabby blob of doughnut fat."

This time, Tink did reach to punch him in the shoulder as he snickered. "Shut it, grandpa." Her stomach rumbled. "And don't talk about food, I'm _starving_."

Peter chuckled. "Good thing I made these, then."

Something landed on her stomach, and Tink sat up. She looked down, only to find a sandwich, crudely wrapped in napkins. Peeling them away, she gasped in delight and took half of it off in one bite. "Tofu and tomatoes! You're the best, Pete!"

His chuckle turned into an all-out laughter. "Damn straight. At least tofu is healthier for you than grease."

She waved a hand at him. "Stop ruining my buzz! Yeesh, you really are a grandpa." Tink swallowed and turned to give him a look. "So how's the job hunt going?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Tink instantly recognized as a sign of frustration. "Not... good. It all goes smoothly on the face-to-face bits, but I never get called in for a second interview. And I have to avoid half the businesses in town if I want to keep my head."

She laughed lightly. "I'll bet. Hook will be just _thrilled_ to have you working on one of his ships."

Peter's face twisted in anger. "I'd rather die than work for him."

"And then there's the Crocodile-run places," Tink continued, counting on her fingers. "Best to avoid those, unless you want to be roped into the illegal sort of jobs. Oh, have you tried the casinos? I'm sure Big Chief will hire you if you apply."

"No, Tink," Peter said tiredly. "I don't want to get involved in the underground again. Everyone knows the Redskins use the casinos to launder their dirty money. I want a real job."

Tink sighed. "If you insist. But I told you, you can't expect it to be easy." Peter ran a hand through his hair again, and she almost laughed. Everything was always easy for Peter. "Look, I know you said you didn't want my help, but there are a few places I can recommend. They have a... looser policy on hiring. Maybe you'll have more luck with them?"

He gave her a weary look. "But you won't pull any strings?"

Tink shook her head. "No strings, I promise. I'll just give you a list of places, I won't even get you interviews."

"And they're legit?"

"Absolutely."

He still hesitated. "And how come you know of them?"

Tink grinned. "Because I rob them. I may or may not have had to get a job under a fake name in order to bypass some security. But," she added quickly, "if you do get hired somewhere, I'll keep any Lost Boys business away."

After a moment's consideration, Peter slowly gave her a nod. "Just a list."

"Just a list," she said. "I'll have it ready by tomorrow."

Peter slipped back into his more easy attitude and laid back on the towel with his hands behind his head, soaking up the sun. "Might actually be kinda fun if you tried to rob a place while I'm working there. I'd get to apprehend you."

Tink laughed. "Yeah, right. A rusty old geezer like you? No chance."

Peter grinned, turning to her again. "You think you can keep up with me?"

"Oh, I know I can," she said, returning it. "I'm not fifteen anymore; I've picked up a few tricks."

"Oh really?" he said, getting up. "Prove it, then. Kick my ass, and first thing I'll do when I get a job is buy you a cool, non-girly surfboard." He offered her a hand.

Tink took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "You've got yourself a deal," she said with a smirk.

They walked to an open space a few feet behind their surfboards and got into position. Both knew the other's fighting style very well—Peter having been the one to teach Tink when they were younger—but it had been a while since they sparred. Five years. Tinkerbell was certain that in that time she had improved quite a bit, and part of her was eager to show him just how far she'd come.

Peter just stood there, waiting. Tink's style had always lied with quick attacks and sharp reflexes, with jabs and fast retreats, but when she attempted an attack, he simply blocked it. Again. And again. She started circling him, looking for openings. He showed none. Usually, she used her enemies' size against them, trying to tip their balance or use their own momentum to her advantage, but none of that worked with Peter. No matter what side she tried to get at him from, he was ever aware of her and blocked or dodged all of her hits. After a few minutes of messing around, he feinted a jab at her left, and when she tried to block he suddenly changed direction and slithered behind her, one hand slipping under her chin to lock with his own bicep, the other gently pressing on the back of her neck.

Tink struggled and clawed at his arm, but he simply leaned his shoulders back, tightening the choke hold.

"I win," he said, smugness literally emanating from his voice.

"You always were a dirty cheater, Pan," Tink said breathlessly, jerking against him.

He let out a laugh, but his grip remained firm. "Sourbell. Don't accuse me of cheating because you fell for my faint and let me past your guard."

She struggled some more, but it was of no use. "How was I supposed to see that coming? You've never been like this in a fight before!"

"Did you think I never had to fight in prison?" he said quietly, and she immediately stilled. For a moment, the two of them just stood there, saying nothing.

"You... never said..."

"You think I'd admit to getting beat up?" There was an edge in his voice, something Tink rarely heard. "I was nineteen and fresh off the streets, stuck in a building of middle-aged thugs. How well do you think that went?"

She wanted to turn and look at him, but at the same time was afraid of what she'd see on his face. "But they didn't... They never...?"

"No," he said. "They didn't. Not for a lack of trying."

"Peter..." Her hand travelled up his arm, this time not to struggle but to soothe.

"The biggest mistake," Peter said, his voice back to its normal, confident tone, "that anyone can make is to underestimate their opponent. Even if they're an old geezer, they can still be dangerous. Even if they're a cute, blonde girl. Never let your guard down to an enemy; fight every single battle as if you were facing the Crocodile."

Tink knew this meant that he didn't want to talk about prison anymore and just went along with it, adding, "If I had to look at people this ugly that often I think I'd take the clean road too."

They both shook with laughter, which quickly died down when they spotted a dark figure approaching through the sand.

"Is that who I think it is?" Peter muttered, finally releasing his hold.

Tink frowned and crossed her arms. Coming towards them, with his black hair swaying in the breeze and his boots scattering sand everywhere, was Running Jackal.

"I thought I made myself clear this morning, Jack," she said when he was close enough.

He stopped before them and said curtly, "You did." Then he turned towards Peter, handing him a sealed letter. "A message."

Peter took the letter with a nod, not showing even the slightest sign of surprise, but Tink could read the tension in his shoulders — he had no idea who this was from.

Jack's eyes swept appreciatively over Tink's body for a moment, and, with a small smirk on his face, he turned to leave.

"How did he know we were here?" Peter said thoughtfully, watching him walk away.

"He followed me," Tink growled. "I should have known better than to tell a Redskin where I was going." Her expression softened as she threw a look at her best friend. "Sorry, Pete."

"It's fine," Peter said, opening the envelope. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm actually kinda surprised it took this long." He unfolded the letter, and his eyes skimmed the contents.

"It is from the Big Chief?" Tink asked.

"No," Peter said, surprise ringing in his voice. "It's from Tiger Lily."

Tink's upper lip curled in contempt. "Oh. That vagina attached to a woman you used to date," she said flatly. Peter ignored her, reading the letter more carefully. "So what's up? Other than Tiger Lily's legs, I mean."

"She wants to meet," Peter said, eyes still glued to the words.

Tink huffed. "Oh, of course she does. A purely innocent rendez-vous, I'm sure. PG-13."

Peter ignored her again, walking over to the towels and starting to pick up his things.

"Wait," Tink said, following behind him. "She wants you to meet her _now_?"

"Well, in a few hours," Peter elaborated. "But I want to wash the salt water from my hair first."

"You're joking." Peter didn't answer her, and she hastily threw her stuff into the beach bag and trailed after him as he headed towards the Shack. "What happened to staying away from the underground?!"

"Tiger Lily is not a criminal," Peter said, propping the surfboards against the wall of the Shack so he could unlock the door.

"So it's not okay to see the Boys, but it's fine to go screw a mob boss' daughter?" Tink was getting more and more angry with each passing second. She hated Peter's on-again, off-again girlfriend with a blazing passion, and the fact that he was so ready to jump when she whistled only added fuel to that fire.

"First of all, there are more than twenty Lost Boys, including you," Peter said calmly, pushing the door open with his shoulder. "And there's only one Tiger Lily. That's a lot easier to manage." With some expert manoeuvring, he brought the boards inside and propped them against the wall. "Second, again, she is not an actual criminal." He threw the towel over his shoulder and started up the stairs.

"Yeah, not to mention that she's the only one that puts out," Tink said, hot on his heels. "Is that what we have to do to get your attention? Be huge whores?"

Peter let the whore comment pass by his ears, throwing the towel into a hamper and peering inside the open closet. "You know it's not like that, Tink," he said, rummaging inside. "It's not that I don't want to see the Boys. I'm just trying to get a clean slate. Be a new man."

"And what's wrong with the man you were before?" she exclaimed indignantly.

Peter huffed. "I wasn't a man before." He took a dark-blue button up and left it on the bed. "That was the problem."

The fact that he was trying to pick out a nice outfit irritated Tink even more.

"Who cares? What's got you into such a hurry to grow up anyway?" she countered. "And besides that, you're making up excuses! You just want to go over to Tiger Lily's place and get a good fuck!"

"You're right," Peter said casually, and a black belt joined the shirt. "I do."

Tinkerbell's face was a dangerous traffic-light red. "You are such a slut, Peter Pan!"

"Right again," he said, picking out a pair of black slacks. "Didn't I have socks around here somewhere?" Tink spotted a pair showing from a half-opened drawer and flung them at his head. "Ah, there they are. Thanks, Tink."

He took a clean, white towel from some drawer and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Seconds later, Tink heard the shower starting to run. Her whole body shook like a bomb about to go off. In a fit of rage, she kicked the stupid hamper so hard across the room it collided with the lamp on his nightstand and knocked it over. Without another word, Tinkerbell turned around and left.


	3. Chapter 3

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3**

Tink took out her phone again, checked for new messages, then put it back in her pocket.

She had been getting grumpier and grumpier every day for the past week. She almost messed up the big gig tonight; if it wasn't for Slightly's quick thinking, the whole thing would have gone up in flames. Literally.

Tink tore her eyes away from the window, where she had been staring unseeingly for the last ten minutes, and tried to get back to the here and now. They were supposed to be _celebrating_.

"A toast!" Curly said, banging a fist against the table. "To getting away by the skin of our asses!"

"Yes!" Slightly said. "Thanks to me and my awesomeness! And the rest of you helped out too, I guess."

"As if your ego needed more boosting, Slightly," Tink teased. "If your head gets any bigger, you wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning."

Slightly grinned. "I fail to see how that's a bad thing."

"To another successful job," Tootles proposed, raising up his beer.

"To the Lost Boys!" Nibs declared, doing the same.

"Hear, hear!" the Twins, Slightly, Curly and Tink cheered loudly, clinking their drinks together.

Some of the patrons of the bar they had ducked into eyed them irritably but said nothing. One of the bikers at the pool table took his shot a little too forcefully, making the white ball bounce up and hit his friend in the chin. The bartender laughed, but the sound was mostly drowned out by the Guns'n'Roses song blaring through the jukebox.

"It's been awhile," Curly said, "since we did a job, just the seven of us."

"Not since we left Neverland," Tootles added wistfully.

Slightly laughed. "Don't tell me you miss that stinkin' old bomb shelter."

"We miss it," First Twin said, peeling the label of his bottle absentmindedly.

"It was home," Second Twin added.

The group of friends exchanged fond smiles over their drinks.

Tink reached behind Tootles and hit him lightly upside the head. "We're not here to reminisce. Neverland was too small; we outgrew it," she said. Then she took out her phone again and threw another impatient look at the screen. Frustration creeped back to the surface, and she started thumping her fingers against the table again.

"Tink, you're going to drive us crazy," Second Twin said. "Why do you keep pulling that thing out every ten seconds?"

"You've been restless this last week," First Twin added. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Tink replied grumpily, staring out the window. Under her breath, she added,"That's the problem."

Her phone buzzed.

Tink scrambled to unlock it, only to give out a frustrated groan when she saw the text and fling it onto the table.

"Who's it from?" Curly asked curiously, leaning over the screen.

Tink reclined back into the chair, crossing her arms with a scowl. "Running Jackal."

Nibs immediately reached for the phone and started drooling over the contact picture. "Damn, that man has abs like a Greek God. If you don't want him, I'll take him!"

Tink huffed. "Have at it."

"Why's he pestering you?" Slightly asked, leaning towards Nibs to read the message.

"Oh, Jack," Nibs said sympathetically. "Oh, creampuff. Triple text? Really? First rule of dating — don't let the desperation show. Wait." He glanced at Tink. "I thought you were only occasional fuck buddies. Did you start dating?"

"No," Tink growled.

"So what's the big deal, then?" Second Twin asked. "Just ignore him."

"That's not what's bothering her," Tootles said perceptively. "She wanted to hear from Peter."

All eyes turned to the phone, and the Boys scuttled together as close as possible as Nibs scrolled through her texts. Tink's frown deepened, but she didn't try to stop them.

"Whoa," Curly said, eyeing Tink. "Last one was five days ago?"

"He says he's been busy..." Tootles drawled hesitantly.

Tinkerbell's face immediately twisted in anger. "Busy screwing Tiger Lily!" She kicked the table and the Boys had to grab a hold of their drinks. "Ever since that harpy got her claws into him, I haven't seen or heard from him at all! It's always 'Something came up' or 'I'll catch up with you later'. We were _supposed_ to meet so I can give him a list for something, and he just told me to _text_ it! He blew me off so she can blow _him_!" Another kick overturned the table.

Fortunately, the Boys had enough foresight to lift everything on it and nothing spilled. The bikers in the corner threw them dirty looks.

The Twins swiftly set up the table again, and the Boys returned to browsing Tink's phone .

Curly whistled. "He really _did_ blow you off. Maybe it's happening."

The rest of the Boys glared at him.

" _What's_ happening?" Tink asked, danger ringing in her voice. The Boys exchanged glances, but no one spoke. She turned to the easiest target. "Tootles?"

The young man almost jumped at his name. "Uh, we just... We've been talking about Peter and his going clean and all..." He started playing with his sleeve, trying to look anywhere but at her.

"And?" Tink prompted.

"And how... he doesn't want to see us because we're criminals, right, and he doesn't want to get involved. But... you're a criminal too." None of them could meet her eyes. "And we thought... that maybe this would occur to him too. Eventually. And he might—"

"Peter is not cutting me out," Tink snapped.

"Tink," Slightly started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "We know you and Peter... We know you're different. But if he wants a clean slate... You're not clean."

For a solid minute all Tinkerbell could do was stare at her friends.

"No," she said firmly. "Peter would not do that. He wouldn't just walk away."

"That's what we thought when you said he wasn't coming back, too," Tootles said quietly.

Tink stood up abruptly. "Fuck you and your theories. You're wrong." She came around the table. "I'll get the next round."

The Boys stared after her as she made her way to the bar.

Slightly punched Curly in the shoulder. "Couldn't keep your mouth shut, could ya, Curly."

"Sorry," Curly said apologetically, rubbing the sore spot. "I wasn't thinking..."

Second Twin slapped him upside the head. "Yeah, you weren't! Now you've gone and done it!"

"Do you really think... That Peter would..." Tootles trailed off, his eyes following Tink.

"I don't know, Tootles," Slightly said truthfully.

"But..." Nibs chimed in. "It's _Tink_. Tink and Peter. They've always been... I don't know. A package deal?"

The Boys were quiet for a bit.

"I remember when they first found me," Slightly said, smiling fondly. "Some hobos tried to steal the money from my begging cap. One second they were kicking me, and the next thing I know they're running away, and this guy in a green t-shirt is leaning over me with a bat over his shoulder and a runt of a girl by his side, offering me a hand. It was almost comical; he was older than me and he had a ten-year-old sidekick. She was like one of those pocket-sized dogs — tiny but vicious."

Nibs scoffed. "Still is."

They all chuckled.

"It was hard to swallow that he didn't want to lead us anymore," Tootles confessed. "It made sense, though, in a way. He has a chance to begin again, and hanging out with his former gang wouldn't help with that. But with Tink..."

"It's different," Nibs finished.

Silence descended over them once again. Nibs glanced down at the phone, then suddenly got a determined look on his face and started typing furiously.

"Hey, hey!" Slightly said, making a grab for it. "What are you doing?!"

Nibs dodged his hand, eyes glued to the screen. "I'm replying to Running Jackal."

The Twins exchanged panicked looks and tried to get him too, but he deftly slithered out of their grasp.

"Tink will kill us!" Second Twin exclaimed.

"Done." Nibs pressed 'send' and left the phone on the table again. "Tink needs to let off some steam. She might prefer to get a visit from someone else, but a naked beefcake is better than nothing."

"Uh... Guys?" Tootles said. "I don't think letting off steam would be a problem."

They all turned towards the bar, where Tink was talking with one of the bikers. Judging by his stupid grin and her annoyed scowl, he was trying to pick her up. The Boys exchanged a glance.

"This looks bad," Curly said worriedly. "We might be about to have a Tinker Tantrum on our hands."

The Twins made to get up, but at that moment Tink said something biting to the guy and started walking back towards them. She had only taken two steps when the biker's hand shot out and slapped her ass. Slightly, who was closest, sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms around her just as she whipped about, a dangerous fire burning in her eyes.

"Whoa there," he said, barely holding her back, then muttered in her ear, "We don't want to start a gang war with the nice biker dudes."

"Slightly, let go," Tink said threateningly.

"Tink," Nibs said, coming even with them. "They outnumber us, and we're in _their_ territory. I get that you're mad, but this is nuts."

Tink ignored him. "You have three seconds, Slightly."

"Please, Tink," Tootles added as he, Curly and the Twins joined them. "Don't do it."

Tink didn't listen. "Time's up."

With a swift kick to his shin and a sudden lurch she threw Slightly off and over her shoulder. Second Twin grabbed her but received a kick in the stomach, and when Tootles tried to help, she punched him in the eye and pushed him back, knocking over Curly and Nibs. With no one to restrain her, Tink moved straight onto the biker guy. The pool players abandoned the game and jumped into the melee, and the Lost Boys, seeing no other choice, joined in as well, trying to keep them off of Tink.

In the ensuing chaos of punches, broken chairs and curses, Tootles was knocked back into their table, turning it over again. Tink's phone smacked into his forearm, and he got an idea. Taking shelter behind the wooden surface, he went into her contacts and quickly dialled Peter's number.

The signal beeped in his ear. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.

" _Tink, I told you, I'll s_ —"

"Peter, it's Tootles." A pool ball soared over his head and broke a window. "We're in trouble. We're in a bar on 7th called Hangman's Tree, and Tink just started a gang war. We can't win, and she won't listen to us, you're the only one that can—"

Something crashed into the table from the other end. A body was thrown over the edge, landing on top of Tootles and knocking the phone away. The fight continued to rage, with bottles and glasses being broken all over the place, fists and boots colliding into bloody faces and bruised ribs. Somewhere along the line someone knocked the bartender unconscious, and he laid limply behind the bar, a bit of blood slowly trickling down his forehead. At some point the brawl took another victim—the pool table—when Slightly threw a biker on top of it and broke it in half. Balls scattered over the floor, and the Lost Boys were quick to take advantage of this to level the playing field, using their swift reflexes to outmanoeuvre the bulky bikers. Tinkerbell raged around the bar like a tiny blonde tornado, caring little of who was on the receiving end of her punches.

When the bar door opened, no one noticed. When someone shouted, no one payed attention. Then, suddenly, that someone took a pool cue and smashed it into the jukebox. The abrupt silence caused the rowdy crowd to stop what they were doing and look up to where Peter Pan was standing above the broken jukebox, half a cue in hand. The only one that didn't stop was Tink, who had straddled the guy that offended her, punching him mercilessly.

"Tink!" Her fist froze at the at the sound of his voice. "That's enough."

She stopped hitting the biker but didn't move to get off him.

Peter made his way to her under the gaze of whoever was left conscious. His fingers gently curled over her wrist. "Come away."

His pull was as light as a summer breeze, but she didn't resist it.

Peter's eyes swept the bar, taking in the roughed up state of his former gang. "Lost Boys!" he called out, voice heavy with authority. "Attention!"

Everyone scrambled to their feet, quickly forming a line in front of Peter, like they used to do when they were kids. He slowly paced before them, trying to contain the a huge grin fighting to break across his face.

"Nibs!" Peter called suddenly. Nibs straightened up like a string. "What's with that earring? Are you trying to be a pirate?"

Nibs snorted, then quickly smoothed his face. "At least I didn't get my tongue pierced," he said, throwing a side glance at Slightly.

"You jackass!" Slightly exclaimed, reaching behind Curly to smack Nibs. "Don't you know what snitches get?!"

The line wobbled as Slightly and Nibs tried to get to each other.

"Order!" Peter called, and they all stood to attention again. "Is that true, Slightly?"

"Yeah, but Second Twin got a tattoo of an anchor on his bicep!"

Second Twin's eyes bugged out. "Yeah, but First Twin's is a raccoon!"

"Yeah, but Curly bleached his hair!" First Twin said quickly.

"TOOTLES WAXES HIS LEGS!" Curly shouted.

Tootles turned the brightest traffic-light red any of them had ever seen, and they all exploded with laughter. Even some of the bikers chuckled; the rest just kept moaning on the floor or throwing murderous glares.

The Boys all gathered around Peter, smothering him in a group hug, shouting things like 'So you finally showed up, huh?' and 'We missed you, Peter!'. When the excitement died down and everyone let go, Peter ruffled Tootles' hair, then finally turned to Tinkerbell.

"Geez, Tink," he said with a quick glance to the guy on the floor, his voice amused, "you've pulverized the poor sap. What did he do?

Her smile dimmed just a little, and, eyes staring daggers into the man at her feet, she growled, "He said I'm almost pretty enough to be working on the street corner, and that he can set me up if I blow him behind the bar."

Something dark flashed behind his eyes. Peter took one step towards the man and kicked him so savagely that, with one last, pathetic grunt, the biker finally passed out.

"I wouldn't exactly keep myself up to the beauty standards of a guy whose face looks like cat vomit," Peter said lightly, wrapping an arm around Tink's shoulders. She looked up at him and grinned, coiling hers around his waist. "Come on Boys," Peter said, turning them to face the others. "This place is dead. Slightly, fire up the Jeep; we're going to the Mermaid's Lagoon!"

The Lost Boys cheered, and the group left the dingy, half-destroyed bar.

* * *

o

The next morning, Tink woke up in absolute darkness. A dull throbbing in her head and a lingering taste of alcohol in her mouth told her she must have gotten hammered last night, though she remembered next to nothing. There was the robbery, the bar fight, Peter... and then the Lagoon. Pounding music, bright lights, Mermaids walking about in their skimpy outfits, serving chicken wings and beer... After that? Nothing.

Tink needed coffee. Bad.

She raised her head slightly, trying to figure out where she was. The puzzle pieces slowly started to come together. She was laying on a soft surface, probably a bed, leaning back against the headboard. Against _someone_. There was a warm arm hugging her, but the body next to her was clothed, something rather unusual for her. It was too dark to see anything, but when her hand slid up the person's chest, she could definitely tell it was a man. His breathing was steady and warm at the top of her head, and he twitched in his sleep, gently tightening his embrace. Something about him felt different. He wasn't as muscular as Running Jackal, Tink's most frequent bed partner, and though she didn't have a clue who it was, she felt oddly... content. And... and something else. The feeling was familiar yet forgotten, like a dream she'd had a long time ago.

Her hand slowly travelled even further, reaching his face. Clean shaven. Short hair. No piercings, nothing distinguishing. Her focus extended beyond him, and she heard the faint sound of breathing from the floor. Someone was snoring. Tink picked herself up a bit, her memory jogging somewhat. Stale air, snoring and darkness. She might not remember last night, but she did remember waking up to this. Reaching up above the bed, her hand almost immediately found the cord and pulled. The light came on, accompanied by the soft hum of the generator.

Tinkerbell looked around Neverland. It was just as they had left it.

Most of the Lost Boys were sprawled on the floor, with the sole exception of Tootles, who had somehow made it to his hammock. Tink glanced down and almost laughed — the mysterious person in the bed was Peter. Of course.

Tink caressed his face affectionately, then gently slipped from his grasp and off the bed. Stepping carefully over Curly, she made her way to the cupboard and quickly found the coffee. Soon the coffee maker was bubbling quietly in the corner.

"Make some for me too," a muted voice said behind her.

She turned around to find Peter sitting up in the bed and yawning widely, hair sticking out in all directions. Trying to hide a smirk, Tink simply nodded and rummaged around the cupboard for hers and Peter's old mugs, then lined them on the table.

When he came up next to her, he had to stifle a snort. "I'd forgotten about this thing," he said, holding up her mug.

"You're just jealous yours doesn't have pretty fairies on it," she teased quietly.

Peter shook with silent laughter. "Yep, you caught me. Now that you know my secret love of fairies, I'm afraid you'll have to die."

"A law-abiding citizen like you — murder?" Tink returned lightly. "You're bluffing."

Peter wiggled his eyebrows. "I can make it look like an accident." His smile fell a bit as he watched Tink pour hot coffee in both mugs. "Listen, Tink, I need to talk to you." He gestured up towards the ceiling, and she nodded, following him up the ladder.

The morning summer air was incredibly refreshing, and the smell of coffee woke Tink up completely. The two of them sat on the soft green grass near the bunker, quietly sipping their drinks.

"So, you got any memory of what went on last night?" she said after a while.

"It's fuzzy," he replied. "I remember parts of it. Images."

She nodded. It must have been worse for him, seeing as he didn't like beer and usually went for the harder stuff when he was out drinking. "Same. Weird that we ended up in Neverland, huh? I thought I'd never be in there with you and the Boys again."

"Yeah..." Peter trailed off, staring at the hatch. "Tink... Do you want to know the real reason I didn't want to see the Boys?"

Tinkerbell didn't reply. She didn't need to.

"It was because I knew it would end up like this," he said, looking up to the canopy of leaves above them. "Remember when they stuck me in juvie for six months? When I got out you guys threw me a party, and the very next day we were planning a raid on a Hook warehouse. I knew this would happen again, that as soon as they salute me the old habits would start rearing their head. Spending time with them reminds me how much fun it is to do whatever you want, to take what you want when you want it, to live by no one else's rules but your own. When I'm alone it's easy to tell myself, 'I'm going to do better.' When I'm surrounded by the Boys… I slip.

"But that kind of life... I can't keep that going forever. Sooner or later, we all have to grow up. In prison, you get a lot of time to think, and there's nothing to distract you from your thoughts, nowhere to escape from them. And I thought... about how I never wanted to end up in there again. Living like a bird in cage, it's..." He paused for a second. "It's suffocating."

"So you stayed away..." Tink said, "Because you were afraid you'd have too much fun?"

Peter glanced at her and smiled slightly. "Pretty much. And last night proved me right."

Tink stared down into her coffee. "If we weren't... criminals. If we all went clean... would it be okay to hang out with us then?"

"That's actually another thing I thought about in prison," Peter admitted after a small pause. "I had this idea that maybe... if I got a job... I can get you guys set up, too."

Tink laughed. "Really," she said flatly. "Set up as what? We don't have any qualifications that don't involve disarming alarms and busting heads."

"They pay people to disarm alarms, you know," Peter said lightly. "And to bust heads. And if nothing else pans out... I could employ you. All law firms need clerks to bring coffee and carry papers."

She snorted. "Curly will spill the coffee _on_ those papers."

He grinned. "Well, I'm the boss, so I'll let it slide."

"And what would I be? Your secretary?" Tink said, bumping her shoulder into his.

"I believe the proper term is 'personal assistant '," Peter said with a completely straight face.

Tink smacked his arm, and he laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Just because I made you coffee _now_ , that doesn't mean I want to do it for the rest of my life!"

Peter laughed again. "It won't be just coffee; you'd be helping me with cases. Maybe eavesdropping with a tape recorder on specific conversations, getting evidence from the police... carrying my briefcase..." She smacked him again, and he snickered. Then, in a more sober tone, he added, "I really am serious, Tink. You deserve better than this. They do, too. Getting a legit job... Would it really be so bad?"

Tink looked at him and didn't know what to say. "I..."

She had never considered other options. Hell, she'd never thought other options _existed_. No more ducking to hide from the police. No more associating with scum like the Crocodile, no more wondering how to hide the dirty money… For just a moment, Tink let her mind wander, imagining herself in a pencil skirt and heels, investigating leads to help with Peter's cases. She pictured the Boys running around doing errands, pictured Peter, mulling over mountains of paperwork on his desk, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. This future was ridiculous, but somehow... appealing. Just for one moment, Tink found herself wanting it.

And then the moment was over.

"Listen, Tink... I will get to that future one day. But for now, it'll have to wait," Peter said. She looked to him questioningly, sipping from her mug. "The thing I wanted to talk to you about... Do you have any low-profile jobs I can help with?"

She laughed. "I thought you wanted to find a job on your own."

"I didn't mean the legit kind."

Tinkerbell almost choked. " _What?_ "

Peter twisted the mug in his hands, not meeting her eyes. "I'm helping Tiger Lily with something, and I need to work off the rust."

Tink's face immediately turned red with rage. "She wants you to steal something for her?!" He finally looked at her, nodding. Tink surged to her feet, leaving the coffee on the ground. "So having a beer with us is not okay because we drag you back into crime, but she bats her eyelashes at you and you leap straight back in?! You have got to be kidding me!"

"She asked for my help, Tink."

"And you're willing to risk your life, your _freedom_ , so you can please that cow?!" Tink was yelling now, pacing back and forth. "Did you forget what got you arrested in the first place? Do the words 'corporate espionage' and 'breaking and entering' ring a bell at all? No! Forget it, I'm not helping you."

"Tink," Peter said calmly, "This is about her mother's murder. She finally has a solid lead; all she needs is evidence."

Tink was too angry to care. "So that's why she called you. Two months of silence, and then BOOM it's suddenly urgent to meet?"

"She didn't know where I was."

"Oh, sure! Did she at least wait until after the sex to ask you, or was it right away?"

"After."

"UGH!" Tink cried out in rage and kicked the nearest tree. "And you're completely fine with her _using_ you like this?! After all that talk about going clean, you just let her drag you back for her own selfish ends?!"

"I couldn't say no."

"Yeah, probably because your mouth was doing something else!"

"She's my friend, Tink."

If there was anything that could have infuriated her more right at that moment, it was his use of that word.

" _I'm_ your friend!" she shouted, completely beside herself. " _The Lost Boys_ are your friends! You don't see us pulling shit like that, but you still choose her over us! Even though she doesn't _care_ at all what it is that _you_ want!"

"It's not like that, and you know it."

His calm, even tone did nothing to placate her. Tink kicked the tree again, turning her back to him.

Peter slowly rose to his feet, approaching. "I'm going to do this with or without you, but it would help to know you've got my back. I don't want to fall back on my old contacts, but I'll do it if you don't help me."

Tink crossed her arms stubbornly, still facing the tree.

Peter came closer and placed a hand on the rough bark. "Come on, Tink," he said, his voice soft. "I need you."

Almost despite herself, Tink turned her head to him and huffed, frown still firmly on her face. "You need me," she repeated flatly.

"I do," Peter said. "There's no one in the world I trust more."

Tink rolled her eyes, but even as she threw him a glare it was obvious to both what the answer would be. Why did she even try to resist him?

Tink turned around with a sigh and punched his shoulder. "Fine, fine, put those puppy dog eyes away, I'll do it." Her face grew hard when she added, "But I'm doing it for _you_. Not for her."

Peter grinned. "I can live with that."


	4. Chapter 4

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4**

It was actually a little surprising how fast Peter adjusted to thieving again. There were a few minor missteps on the first job, such as him almost running into the security guard, but by the second time around he was back to his old, nimble self — flitting around rooftops like a shadow, quiet as a whisper.

The first job Tink took him on was a warehouse raid, something easy and familiar to him. Second one was a supply truck. For the third she upped the ante and they went on to rob a house — that of the infamous crime boss, Ugarte. The security system was state of the art, the safe nigh impenetrable, and the owner slept soundly in the next room the entire time.

Needless to say it all went without a hitch.

To mark the success of the heist, they went to their usual spot — the very top of Hook Tower.

The warm night breeze caressed their faces as Tink and Peter sat down on the roof, opened the supermarket-bought celebratory ice cream and took out the plastic spoons. Being here, so high above it all, made the world below seem distant and out of focus, like a far off dream.

Tink, however, was looking up at the stars.

"Hey, your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it?" Peter said vaguely, staring up as well.

"Yeah..." Tink replied.

"Have any plans?"

Tink shrugged. "No, not really. Might treat the Boys to a pint or something."

"We should celebrate. How about we go on a trip? We haven't done that in a while."

"We haven't done that in six years, you mean," Tink said.

Peter turned to look at her, surprise written on his face. "Has it really been that long?"

Tink nodded, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You've been too wrapped up in Tiger since you got out."

Peter swore under his breath. "Well, it looks like a trip is way overdue, then! We'll just catch a random bus, like we did when we were kids, and go on an adventure! What do you say?"

"What if Tiger Lily needs you to wash her socks or something?" Tink said mockingly. Looking down to the dim city lights, she muttered under her breath, "You don't seem to ever have time for me lately."

He was quiet for a minute. "Look, Tink... I'm sorry. I see you all the time; I haven't seen Tiger Lily in years. I just wanted to... It felt like I needed to make up for lost time."

Tink sighed. "I get it."

"And I can't spend time with both of you together, it's like a nuclear—"

"I get it, Pete," Tink said quietly.

A soft silence fell over them. Peter didn't add anything else, and Tink didn't really feel like talking about it anymore.

After a few minutes passed by, Peter elbowed her gently and said, "Look, we can see your star from here." He pointed to the sky with the plastic spoon. "Second to the right."

Tinkerbell laughed. "How can you tell which one it is?" she teased, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"I'm the one that gave it to you, of course I can tell," Peter said with that absolute air of certainty only he could pull off. "What do you say we take a trip there for your twentieth? It's a landmark year, you know."

"I thought eighteen was the landmark," Tink said with a laugh.

Peter waived his hand dismissively. "No, not in legal terms. In I'm-here-for-it-again terms. We have to make this one special."

"Why? Not planning on being here for the next?" she teased, bumping her shoulder into his.

Peter grinned, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Not even Hook can stop me." Then he looked up to the stars again and added, "I'll build you a rocket and we'll go to your star. It's very pretty there, you'll love it."

Tink leaned into him, scooping some more ice cream. "Why, what's there?"

"Well... There's an island, and it has a big blue lagoon. With lots of flamingoes."

Tink giggled. "There are flamingoes at the zoo. What else?"

"There's a big pirate bay where we can buy a ship and sail the sea. There's also a big valley full of fairies. They're this tall." He put the ice cream away and held up his free hand, bringing two fingers about five centimetres apart. "They'll shrink you down to their size, and you'll get to meet the Fairy Queen."

"Peter, I'm turning twenty years old," Tink protested. "I've outgrown fairies."

He huffed a laugh and tightened his arm around her slightly. "No you haven't."

She laughed too. Tinkerbell knew Peter better than anyone else, but he also knew _her_ better than anyone _._

"Fine, fine, you caught me. But what if I like it there too much and I don't want to be human again?"

"Then I'll carry you in my pocket," Peter said. "And I'll build you a house from that old clock you like and take you with me to the Shack."

"What if I don't want to come back to Earth at all?"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "Then we'll stay on the star." With some gusto, he continued, "We'll hunt the flamingoes and other wild animals, and we'll wear their skins for clothes. We'll dance with the fairies at night and they'll teach me how to fly, and then we'll go visit the other stars and have lots of adventures!"

Tink giggled. When she was little she hung on his every word and truly believed he could travel to the stars, and fly, and talk to fairies. When she got a little older some of that childhood magic faded away, but he still spoke with such conviction that she _almost_ believed him. He may have an adult body now, but Peter Pan would never grow up. Not truly.

"Sign me up! When is the rocket ship going to be ready?" she said.

"Tomorrow," he replied without missing a beat. "It's the rocket fuel that might be a bit of a problem. I'll let you know when I have enough Uranium."

"What happens if you don't have it by the time my birthday rolls around?"

Peter grinned. "Then we're taking your bike."

"And where would we go?"

"Anywhere!"

Tinkerbell laughed, putting the ice cream away and wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug.

Peter leaned his cheek on the top of her head. "But you're paying for gas."

Tink chuckled and poked him in the ribs. "You cheap bastard. Will your precious Lily Flower even let you go?"

He laughed. "She can't tell me what to do."

"And what if you're too busy 'catching up'?" Tink asked skeptically.

"I'll find the time," he said firmly.

Tink's smile faded, and her arms tightened slightly around him. "I hope that's true."

Peter pulled away to look at her. "You don't trust me?"

Tink's eyes wandered to the distant street below. "I do, but..." Her next words came out barely above a whisper. "It wouldn't be the first time you've abandoned me to be with her."

Peter's brows immediately locked in a frown. "I have _never_ abandoned you. Ever."

Tink stared back at him. Did he truly not remember, or was he lying so convincingly that even she couldn't see through him? "You don't even remember, do you."

"Because it never happened!" he insisted hotly. "I wouldn't abandon you, not for anyone."

She didn't know what to say. They had never talked about it.

"It was when—"

Just then, Peter's phone rang from his pocket.

 ** _Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs, with the boom box blaring as we're falling in love_**

 ** _I got a bottle of whatever but it's gotten us drunk, singing "Here's to never growing up!"_**

He pulled it out and threw a quick glance at the screen. "It's Tiger." His arms fell away as he stood up. "I'll just be a minute." After one step, he added teasingly, "That doesn't mean I'm abandoning you, okay? I'll be right over here; try to contain your tears."

Tink chucked the plastic spoon at him and watched him snicker as he answered the call, taking a few steps further away.

She turned forward, looking down at the distant city lights. The wind rustled softly in the supermarket-branded plastic bag.

* * *

o

 _Almost 8 years ago, in the Lost Boys' brand new Hideout_

"And then he goes, 'Ya think you can take me, punk?' and he does that weird brandishing thing to show off, right, and I just stepped forward and nailed him right in the junk!"

The Lost Boys gathered around Peter roared in laughter, and he reclined back into his Seat, a smirk playing on his lips.

"So did you get any action?" Slightly asked excitedly. "I've heard Tiger Lily is _gorgeous_." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Was she grateful for the rescue?"

Tink smacked him upside the head. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"I think it's a great thing, what you did, Peter," Tootles chimed in. "You shouldn't leave a damsel in distress."

Nibs threw him a look. "Dude. Have you _seen_ Tiger Lily in a gunfight? She's no damsel."

"But she _was_ in distress," Slightly insisted. "She was in trouble, and Peter saved her. He's due a little something!"

Tinkerbell smacked him again. "Women do not _owe_ you anything for helping them!"

"She didn't owe me," Peter chimed in with a smirk. "But there was gratitude."

The Boys laughed once again, and the Twins gave out enthusiastic wolf calls.

The fun atmosphere was suddenly interrupted when the door of the hideout swung open. Peter looked up, and the Boys stood from the floor and turned around.

"We need to install some security around here," Curly mumbled, eyeing the tall, muscular young man that stood in the doorframe.

Tink silently agreed to that, but seeing as they had just gotten the place, Peter's Seat was the only furniture they had right now. She made a mental note to think of some security precautions in the future as her blue eyes swept over the stranger.

He looked a few years older than her, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and his black muscle shirt bore the Grim Reaper logo of some death metal band. His long black hair was gathered in a ponytail at the base of his neck, and he kept his dark eyes fixed on Peter. Some sort of long animal tooth swung from his earring as he made his way across the room. The Boys parted before him, though the Twins threw him warning glares as he passed, and Slightly cracked his knuckles.

The newcomer seemed undisturbed and only stopped when he was directly in front of Peter, his tanned hand extending to him with a message.

"For Peter Pan, from the Big Chief."

Peter frowned, standing to his feet and accepting the letter. "Where's Coursing River?"

The messenger was silent for a moment. "Gone."

The Lost Boys exchanged tense, surprised glances.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Tinkerbell exclaimed, her hands balling into fists. "What happened to her?"

"Tink," Peter said warningly as the stranger turned to look at her.

It felt like she would explode with the effort to contain herself, but she didn't say anything more.

The newcomer stared at her, and his gaze slowly slid down to her shaking fist, lingering on the charm bracelet. "You are Tinker Bell," he said. "The girl in the band of boys. My sister spoke of you often. She was… fond of you."

Tink's eyes rose to meet his. "You're Running Jackal?" she said, surprise colouring her words. Coursing River's brother was supposed to be only a year older than her. This boy was _thirteen_?! "She… she spoke of you, too. Is River… is she..." Tears tightened her throat, and Tink just couldn't force the word out.

After a short pause, Running Jackal said, "Dead."

The silence that followed those words was deafening. The only thing that broke it was the envelope being crunched in Peter's fist.

"Who was it?" he asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Running Jackal turned forward to face him. "One of Hook's men, I don't know his name. Now I'm Big Chief's messenger in her place."

Peter nodded briefly. After a short pause he opened the letter, and a look of surprise came over his face as his eyes glided over the contents.

"What's it say, Pete?" Curly asked.

"The Redskins... are inviting us to the Casino," Peter said, half-stunned.

"The Big Chief is grateful that you rescued his daughter from Hook," Running Jackal said stiffly.

"So we get to go in the big Casino?" Nibs said excitedly. "I've always wanted to take a peek inside!"

"Hold up," Slightly cut in. "What if it's a set up?"

Running Jackal glared at him.

"I don't think so..." Peter drawled. "They've never been hostile before."

"The Redskins are not without honour," the messenger added.

Tink had to agree. The Redskins were not the friendliest of gangs, but they had never been outright aggressive or antagonistic to them.

"Besides," Peter added with a smirk, "The enemy of our enemy is our friend. If they're against Hook, that's good enough for me."

At nightfall, the Lost Boys clambered into their Jeep and drove off to the Redskins HQ. Tink expected to find it empty and menacing, but in reality it was full to the brim with gang members.

The Casino was dark and smoky, with gambling tables and slot machines filling every corner. Dark-skinned men and women prowled around the place, waiting for their 'guests of honour'. Things were tense at first, but when Tiger Lily flashed Peter a brilliant smile and led him to the big table to introduce him to her father, things started to wind down. That night, the Piccaninny tribe shared a peace pipe with Peter and the Lost Boys, and the Big Chief pronounced Peter a great warrior, saying that from now on the Redskins and the Lost Boys would be allies.

Then came the party.

Loud, with lots of alcohol, and dancing, and Peter spending all of it locking lips with Tiger Lily.

Tink, meanwhile, was perched atop a high chair next to the slot machines, sulking. She was sour about a lot of things, not the least of it being that Peter was completely ignoring her, and that literally everyone else was having a good time. Sometime around midnight, she decided that staring at a wall would be better than watching Peter and Tiger make out on the dance floor and snuck outside for some fresh air.

The music was still thumping, but thankfully the walls did absorb some of the impact, muffling the sound. Tink sat down on the curb, kicking a pebble angrily. This was officially the worst party ever.

"Why are you outside?" a voice asked from behind, but she didn't turn around.

"I'm not in a party mood," Tink replied vaguely.

Footsteps echoed through the ground as Running Jackal approached. He stood there for a second, then sat next to her, pulling out a pack of smokes. "Me neither." He offered her a cigarette, but she only shook her head. Running Jackal shrugged, striking a match against the pavement. "To be honest," he added, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag, "I don't think they should be in one either. I've heard a lot about Pan from River, but now that I've met him in person I think he's just a wisecracking jackass."

"Don't insult him," Tink growled quietly.

"I say what I think," he countered. "Only a jackass would suggest a party after learning of someone's death."

Tink's expression softened. She picked up a few pebbles from the ground and aimed one at a discarded beer can a few feet away. "You don't know him like I do." The stone missed by an inch. "He does grieve for River, in his own way. But he doesn't think that wallowing in sadness does any good." The next hit landed and made the can spin in place. "Peter doesn't dwell on failures or on things he can't control. He's just trying to lift everyone's mood." She looked down at the last pebble in her hand and closed her fist around it. "River wouldn't have wanted us to just stand around and be sad."

Running Jackal stared at her silently for moment, then gently took her wrist and brought it up to examine the silver bell charm hanging from her bracelet. "She made this, didn't she," he said quietly. "It's a charm to protect you." Then his eyes met hers. "Why do they call you Tinker Bell? It's an unusual name for a white girl."

"It's Tinkerbell," she corrected him with a slight smile, her hand slipping out of his grasp. "And it's what Peter calls me. I don't… really have a name. I've been a street urchin ever since I can remember, and when we met and I couldn't tell him my name, he just gave me one." The smile on her face grew fonder. "He said my laugh sounds like a tinkling bell." Her gaze lingered on the charm bracelet. Warm thoughts of Peter were slowly overtaken by the aching sadness of River's loss. "Maybe you should have it," she said, placing a palm on her wrist. "River gave it to me the other night… It might've been the last thing she made before..."

Running Jackal's hand covered hers. "It might have. But she made it for you. She'd kick my ass if I took it."

Tink huffed a laugh, and her eyes met his. They were black and warm, just like River's.

"Awww, don't that story just melt your heart, Mr Smee?"

Tinkerbell and Running Jackal snapped around, but it was too late. Two pairs of arms grabbed them and pulled them apart, forcing them up.

"I think we might've intruded on a personal moment," the ugly goon holding Running Jackal said.

The young man struggled in his head lock, as did Tink, but the arms holding them did not budge.

"I do apologise for ruining your rendez-vous, Miss Bell," the man behind Tink said politely. "But James Hook has requested an audience." Tink saw a white handkerchief out of the corner of her eye, and the smell of chloroform hit her nostrils.

"Tinkerbell!" Running Jackal wheezed, but he could only watch helplessly as the handkerchief covered her nose and mouth.

Tink tried to hold her breath, but it was useless. Within seconds, the whole world went dark.

*o*

Tink came to somewhere cold and dark. The first thing she registered was that she was sitting up in a chair, and that a thick rope kept her bound to it. The second thing was a white plastic bottle right under her nose, and the strong stench of ammonia. The smell hit _hard_ , and it made her body work on double time — heart rate went through the roof, blood coursed through her veins, lungs gasped for breath and a thumping echoed loudly in her head, but she was suddenly and completely alert.

The bottle was taken away, and Tink managed to take in more of her surroundings. Dark, spacious room. A table a few feet away from the chair, containing various metal instruments, some of them bloodied. Two men, both in the shadows — one fat and short, the other tall and lean. Suddenly, a lamp shone in her face, accompanied by a sharp pain in her eyes.

"Ah, Miss Bell," the tall man said, taking a step closer. Tink couldn't see his face well because he was standing right in front of the light, but she could tell that he was dressed in a very expensive, wrinkle-free suit. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

Tink tried to force her eyes upon him but all that did was make them water, so she had to turn them to the ground again. "What do you want?" she asked, not wasting time beating around the bush with fake pleasantries.

The tall man tsked disapprovingly. "Now, now, is that the proper way to address someone you have just met?"

"When that someone kidnaps and ties you up? Yeah," Tink said.

The man turned to his companion. "You see, Smee? This is what happens to children on the streets. They grow up without manners." Then he took a step closer and knelt before her, his voice becoming warm and pleasant. "I suppose it's not your fault, my dear. You have no concept of Good Form, growing up as a rat. Now, I have the power to make that all go away. I can get you a family. Your own mother and father, who will look after and take care of you. You'll have a house. Dresses. Pretty dolls. Anything you desire. All I require… is a small favour."

Tink tried to look at him again, but the light was still too bright. "What. Do. You. Want," she repeated at his flawless lapels.

"Nothing that would cost you. Simply directions to a place I've been looking for. A place where I can find a certain common friend of ours. I've heard it's called… Neverland."

Tink laughed. "Hah! You — in Neverland? Pirates can't _get_ into Neverland, Captain Hook."

"Me, a pirate?" the man said, his voice a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I am no captain, though I must admit it has a nice ring to it. Nevertheless, I require access to this 'Neverland'. Your little game has gone on for far too long, and it has recently jumped from annoying to obstructive. I'm afraid I can simply no longer ignore the raids you and your compatriots have been making upon my honest business. But, despite the efforts of my trusted employees, the so-called Lost Boys have escaped my grasp." He lifted a hand adorned with heavy gold rings to her head in a fatherly caress. "But you, you are not a boy, Miss Bell. You don't belong there, with those dirty miscreants. Tell me how to find Peter Pan, and I shall make sure you never want for anything."

Tink finally forced her eyes up to his shadowy silhouette and stared at the spot where his head was supposed to be. "Eat shit."

 _SLAP!_

She felt her mouth fill with blood and spat it at his feet.

"Well, Mr Smee," Hook said, standing up. "I tried to be nice. You saw it, I attempted to be civilized, but she would not have it. What else am I supposed to do?" His hand reached for the table. "I'm afraid, Miss Bell, that if you do not want to cooperate, things will have to get… messy." The instrument he picked up was a long, jagged knife. "Last chance," he said quietly. "Where is Neverland?"

Tink spat right in his face.

Slowly, Hook took out a neatly folded kerchief from his breast pocket and wiped it off. "Smee," he said evenly. "Make sure the warehouse is secure."

"Yessir."

The other man exited the room, leaving Tink alone with Hook and his instruments.

*o*

An hour passed. Two. Days. Centuries.

The only thing that left Tink's lips was a never-ending string of curses and screams.

The latest tool dropped on the table as Hook unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. "You really are remarkably resilient," he said, the notes of praise his voice making Tink feel sick. "I've seen even grown men that crack sooner. I feel compelled to warn you, though, that there's only so much your body can withstand."

"Threaten all you want," Tink said, lifting her chin proudly. "Peter will save me. He'll burst in here any second, and then you'll be sorry."

Hook had gotten carried away with the last cut on her arm and nicked the rope; she was _this_ close to twisting her slim wrist free.

The man chuckled sinisterly. "Will he, I wonder?" Hook said, running a finger over the sharp edge of the knife. "I suppose that would depend on how much of my poison he's had to drink at the Redskins' party. He's either throwing up his guts right now, or he's sleeping off a hangover he'll never wake up from."

For the first time that evening, Tink's eyes widened in fear, and her body froze. "You're lying," she said, but her voice shook.

Hook stopped what he was doing and observed her carefully for a second. Then he dropped his arms to his side and said, "I thought it would be a folly to pass up such an opportunity. I am not so foolish as to attack a building full of two rather infamous street gangs, but it was a rare moment in which I knew Pan's whereabouts. It was a simple thing to slip the Redskin doing the re-supplying poisoned bottles. It's an uncommon one though, a dangerous blend. Kills slowly. Painfully." He checked his wristwatch. "Peter ought to start feeling the effects about now, I should think. First comes the blurred vision. Then the vomiting. Difficulty breathing." He took a slow, deliberate step towards her with every word. "Fever. Sweating. Weakness. And then, eventually, there will come the trembling. The pain. Finally, his mouth will start foaming… as he draws his final breath."

Tink's lip bled as she bit down on it, hard, to prevent herself from making a sound.

"But you could save him," Hook whispered earnestly. "Tell me, Tink. Tell me where Neverland is, and I'll give you the antidote. I'll let you go back to Peter, to _save_ him."

Tink could feel the will to resist start to drain from her, but managed to keep her eyes on the floor.

"He's dying," Hook whispered. "You, and only you, have the power to help him. It's not too late. I know Neverland is somewhere near Kensington Gardens. Just tell me where. A street and a number is all I need."

The door to the room creaked open.

"Not now," Hook said coldly.

"But Sir… there's something that requires your attention, _urgently_."

"Have Smee handle it."

"That's just it, Sir. It's… about Mr Smee."

Tink could practically feel the anger emanating from the man before her.

"Fine," he said, turning away. "Keep an eye on the girl until I return."

Hooks' footsteps echoed in the silent room as he exited. The henchman that was supposed to guard her took one look at her battered form and whistled, then turned to examine the objects atop the table.

Tink saw her chance. With one last, painful pull, she managed to free her wrist. Using her fast reflexes, she made a grab for the tall lamp and slammed it right into the back of his head. He fell down with a grunt, and she quickly reached for one of the knives that only minutes ago had been biting into her skin, using it to cut the rest of the rope away. Stepping over the unconscious man, Tink made her away to the door and quietly snuck around the compound until she came across a garage. There, she overheard some more Hook employees who were about to head down to 'pick up the body', so she slipped into the trunk of the car and hitched a ride to town.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, Tink deftly slipped out and disappeared into a random alley as the setting sun coloured the sky in red and orange. She was very careful on her way, making sure she wasn't being followed, but when she got to the Casino, the Lost Boys' jeep wasn't in the car park. Nor were any other cars. Peeking through the windows, she saw only remnants of a party and an empty room. Confused, she wandered to the new Hideout, but found it deserted as well. Tink was starting to panic, not sure where else Peter might have gone.

As a last resort, she went to Neverland, but it was empty too. It occurred to her that maybe he was at the hospital, but her body was aching with every movement, and she knew that there was no chance she'd make it there — she was on the verge of collapse as it was. Tink bandaged her wounds and crawled up into bed. Hook was probably lying. He must have been. And even if he wasn't, he'd said it was slow. There was still time.

With worry still coiled in her stomach like a cold snake, Tink gave up and fell asleep. She would look for him in the morning.

*o*

A hand caressed her head. Tink roused from her sleep, but her eyelids felt heavy as lead.

"Peter?" she muttered. "Peter, the party… there's poison in the—"

"It's okay, Tink," Peter whispered reassuringly. "The party was yesterday. We dealt with the poison."

"Oh." A great weight lifted from her shoulders, and she sank back into the pillow. "You're okay, then?"

"Yeah," Peter said softly, continuing to caress her. "I'm okay. Sleep now, Tink. You made it."

* * *

o

 _Back in present day..._

Tink smiled to herself as the wind gently blew the bangs from her face.

When she had woken up the next day, things just continued as normal. They never spoke of that night. She was covered the bruises and cuts, but he never asked how she'd gotten them. What hurt even more was the fact that Peter apparently hadn't even noticed she was missing. He must have, sometime the next day when he sobered up, but Tiger probably kept him busy, and he must've decided that she'd turn up eventually. Maybe he thought she had spent all that time in Neverland, sleeping. Maybe he'd suspected that something was wrong, seeing as he knew about the poison, but prefered to stay and make out with Tiger instead of looking for Tink and making sure she was okay. Maybe he—

Peter hung up the phone and walked back to Tink. She looked up at him when he stopped next to her.

"Tink, are you free two nights from now?"

She leaned back so she could see him better and said, "I can make myself free. What do you need?"

"Backup."


	5. Chapter 5

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5**

In the dead of night, Tink cautiously made her way to the meeting spot, trying to blend into the long shadows of the granite buildings. Deftly slipping into an alleyway, she found it deserted and decided to climb up the fire escape on the right-hand side, just in case someone passed by and had the bright idea that a short, blonde girl would make for easy pickings. It was hard enough trying to conceal the long sniper rifle as it was; it would get in the way if she had to fight.

After only a minute, someone landed softly on the grate behind her, so quietly she didn't even notice him until he sat down next to her.

"Look who's working off the rust," she teased, grinning. "I _almost_ didn't hear you."

"And look who's not working off the doughnuts," Peter returned. "Everyone in a mile radius must have heard you climb up here."

Tink punched his shoulder playfully. "Shut up. I don't see you carrying a rifle that's almost as long as you."

Peter's smirk hinted at a snarky remark, but before he could say it a third person walked into the dark alley. The woman was tall and curvy, her black hair tied in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a dark-blue dress that sparkled with her every movement, as did the diamond earrings and matching necklace shining in contrast to her dark skin. The woman stopped below the fire escape and looked around warily.

Tink scoffed at her outfit. Could she _be_ any more conspicuous? Peter, however, simply jumped the railing, landing behind Tiger Lily who instinctively spun around with a well-aimed gun.

Peter threw his arms up. "Whoa there! At least let me screw up before you come after me with a gun."

Tink snickered, but Tiger only smirked mysteriously and put the weapon away. "You should know by now what happens to people that sneak up on me."

He took a step closer, hands coming to rest at her hips. "So is a gun to the face how you usually greet guys, or am I just special?"

Tiger wrapped her arms around his neck with a smile, moving in for a kiss.

Tink made a gagging noise from up at the fire escape and jumped down.

"If you're done slutting it up, can we get down to business?" she said. Then, with a sweet smile on her face, she added to Tiger Lily, "I know you're used to hearing that, Lily Flower, but I was actually talking to Peter."

Tiger threw her an annoyed glare as she and Peter broke apart. "It's been a while, Tinkerbell," she said coldly.

"Not long enough," Tink muttered under her breath, adjusting the rifle strap on her shoulder.

"Nothing much has changed, I see," Tiger continued, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Except that you finally grew breasts. Congratulations."

Tink rolled her eyes. "At least I grew mine," she said.

"Oh, honey, everything you see is all natural," Tiger Lily said, straightening up slightly in a way that accentuated the plunging neckline of her dress. "But I do happen to know a good surgeon I can recommend you. God knows you need it for that whole 'nose' situation."

Tink snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure you have his number by _complete coincidence_."

Tiger opened her mouth to retaliate, but Peter cut in.

"Okaaaaay. Time to go over the plan now," he said. "Tink, do you know what to do?"

Tink whipped off the long coat concealing the sniper rifle and turned the safety off with a loud _click_. "Yep." Then she threw the barrel over her shoulder with a grin. "Have your back. Like I always do."

"Atta girl." Peter smiled and ruffled her bangs. "But shooting is a last resort; we don't want to attract attention if we can avoid it. Keep an eye out for trouble and give me three quick flashes with the flashlight if someone's coming. Tiger will be distracting _him_ for as long as possible while I'm up searching his office, so if it all goes well, it won't come to that." He turned to Tiger Lily and, to Tink's annoyance, a note of worry chimed in his voice. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm a big girl, Peter," Tiger Lily replied, caressing his cheek. "I can take care of myself."

"Okay, before I throw up, there are a couple of things I need to give you," Tink said to Peter, rummaging inside the coat's deep inner pocket. "I've made a few new toys since you got thrown in the slammer. First, grappling hook." She held out an object closely resembling a retractable dog leash. "It's very light and compact, but the metal cable inside can hold up to 200lbs, so no passengers. Second, goggles." She tapped the ones on her own head, handing him an identical pair. "Night vision," she explained, pressing one of three buttons on the side, "Infra-red. Zoom. Be careful with that last one; it auto-tracks your pupil and if your eyes are darting around too much it can make you dizzy. I also got you some more smoke bombs, just in case," Tink added, holding up a palmful of small balls.

Peter took the objects with a nod and secured them to his utility belt. "Got it. Thanks, Tink."

"Don't I get anything?" Tiger Lily asked, half-mocking, half-serious.

"Gee, Tiger, it seems like you didn't take any dignity with you when you left the house tonight, but I didn't think to bring extra," Tink replied innocently.

Tiger threw Tink another death glare, but Peter got between them and said, "Right, if we're all ready then..."

"Be careful," Tiger said, cupping his face in her hands and bringing it in for a deep kiss, which he returned immediately.

Tink tapped her foot impatiently one, two, three times, then dragged him away by the elbow, saying, "Alright already, you'll suck face later. Do you want to do this thing or not?"

* * *

o

Nearly an hour later, Tink sat on the edge of the roof, one leg drawn close to her chest, the other dangling carelessly above the dark street. There wasn't much to do, so she tried to make out any trace of Peter's silhouette creeping through the upper floors, but as expected, he made no sign of his presence. Tink's eyes wandered back down again, waiting in complete boredom for something to happen. The Piano Bar's sign flickered for a moment, and a few shining dots in the A went out.

Tink wondered vaguely what was going on inside. She'd never been to those classy wine-and-rich-people places — her scene was more run-down bars and rest stops. A vague picture of Tiger Lily, perched at the end of the piano and flirting with mobsters, formed inside her head. What did Peter see in that cow (besides the obvious)? Tink had always been annoyed with Peter's girlfriends, but this one was beyond infuriating. Well... she'd been annoyed with _almost_ all of them.

An image swam before her eyes, a vision of a young girl with kind eyes and a soft smile. Wendy Darling, Peter's first love. And, Tink would argue, his only love.

There had been other girls after Wendy. There had been Jane, Margaret, Tiger Lily, of course, and an endless string of Mermaids, but all of those girls had always been irritated by Tink in one way or another. When she was little they looked down at her with disdain as the tag-along-kid cramping his style, and when she got a bit older they didn't like that Peter had a girl this close to him all the time.

Not Wendy Darling. Tink had been ten years old when Peter met her, and had taken an immediate, strong dislike of her.

" _Oh, what a cute girl!_ " Wendy had said the first time Peter brought her to Neverland. " _What's her name?_ "

" _I can hear you, you know!_ " little Tink had snapped, crossing her arms.

Peter had laughed, then, and introduced her, and no matter how bratty Tink acted, Wendy was never anything but kind. Tinkerbell had never had a mother, but even though Wendy had been only fifteen while dating Peter, Tink had sometimes thought that maybe... maybe if she had one...

The chilly breeze on the roof ruffled her blonde bangs, and the vision disappeared. Tinkerbell smiled slightly and chuckled, remembering how Wendy once didn't let her eat an old, stale doughnut.

" _It's too greasy, Tink! Such things are not healthy; they're bad for you!_ "

If only she'd known Tink had found the doughnut in the garbage.

She was like this with the Lost Boys too; back then there were only six of them. She'd make them wash behind their ears and go to bed on time, and bring a jacket if it was cold out, and eat vegetables every now and then. One time, horrified by the discovery that the Lost Boys had been eating nothing but pizza for two months straight, she brought into Neverland a huge home-cooked meal. Afterwards they all had stomach aches, but Tink never tasted anything as good in her life.

Begrudgingly, over time, Tink had warmed up to the girl. She was the only one Tink had ever considered giving Peter to. The Boys loved her, Peter adored her, but after only a year her family moved to England, and she left. Peter never talked about it and he never showed it, but Tink knew him too well. He was heartbroken.

Tink's face saddened as she stared unseeingly at the bright neon sign of the piano bar. Three years into Peter's incarceration, she'd gotten a postcard addressed to him. Wendy was getting married. _Had_ gotten married. Tink never had the heart to tell him.

Suddenly, a car turned a corner and smoothly came to a stop before the building across the street. Tink perked up, watching it with mild interest. The headlight stayed lit, and she thought to herself that this was probably a bad sign, right as the establishment door opened and Tiger Lily waked out, laughing and chatting with an older gentleman dressed in an impeccable business suit.

Tink's upper lip curled in a snarl.

 _Hook._

Her eyes quickly darted to the dark windows of the upper floors, but there was once again no obvious sign of Peter. Tink prepared the flashlight in case she needed to give the signal.

When she looked back down to the street, the atmosphere had suddenly changed. Tiger Lily was no longer laughing, and her posture was tense, alert, ready to leap. Her proud eyes glared at Hook with unmistakable hostility, and he was leaning in close, whispering in her ear. Something had gone wrong, just as Peter feared, and Hook was on to them. Or maybe just on to her.

Tink slid the goggles down and over her eyes. They immediately focused on Tiger's midsection, zeroing in on a gun barrel that Hook was pressing into her stomach. Slowly, Hook pulled away. Tink and Tiger both tensed, waiting for his next move.

Hook retracted the gun, then took Tiger's hand in both of his and slowly brought it to his lips. Judging by her expression, the mob boss's daughter was not pleased by the gesture but remained quiet, keeping herself back to murderous glare.

Someone got out of the car and held the passenger door open. Tink expected them both to get in, but in another twist, Hook bid Tiger good-bye and left her there, climbing in alone. Just as the door was about to close, Tink heard him speak again, and this time his words were loud enough to understand.

"It's been lovely seeing you again, my dear."

The two beefy bouncers behind Tiger nodded to each other. The car door slammed shut and the limo drove away, plunging the street in semi-darkness once again. The two goons advanced on Tiger Lily, who whipped around and reached for her gun, but the bouncers were faster, tazing her with a high voltage. Tiger dropped the gun as her entire body shook uncontrollably, and one of the bouncers slammed his gloved fist into her cheek. She fell, hard, on the pavement, and the man kicked the gun all the way back to the Piano Bar's door.

Tink observed quietly from her perch high above the street as the two men advanced towards the still-shuddering woman. Well, the danger had passed — whatever it was Hook suspected her of, theft was not it. Maybe he was just annoyed by her stupid laugh. Who wouldn't be?

One of the bouncers picked up Tiger Lily, while the other took out a shiny blade from an inside pocket of his uniform. Must be taking very good care with polishing it, Tink thought, for the light to be reflecting like that. Oh well, Tiger did say she knew a good plastic surgeon. If they damaged her pretty face too much she knew exactly who to call. To Tiger's credit, she didn't scream when it cut her. Tink thought that it was rather stupid of them to be doing this _right in front of the bar_ , but hey, they weren't exactly hired for their brains. Hook really ought to give more specific orders to his goons.

Impressively, Tiger Lily managed to slither out of their grasp and land one or two hits on them. Tink whistled quietly. It was like watching wind blow against a mountain.

One of them grabbed her wrist, and his other hand closed around her throat. Even up on the roof Tink could hear the faint choking sounds. Well, he _was_ wearing gloves, she thought. If he did choke her, there would be no fingerprints. Unexpectedly smart.

The second guy did not seem to have his friend's mental capacity. He advanced on Tiger with the knife again, and Tink almost facepalmed. _No, not with the obvious weapon, you idiot, those leave traces!_ The bouncer's hand rose menacingly in front of Tiger, when a blade whizzed through the air and pierced it. He dropped the weapon, wailed in pain and stepped back, holding his injured limb.

Peter descended from high above and landed on the ground before Tiger Lily, pulling out a spare knife from his boot. The blade bit into the bouncer's thigh, and Peter dragged it up to his hip bone. Tiger took advantage of the distraction and slithered her arm out of the man's grip, nailing her elbow into his jaw. Then she fell to her knees, gasping for breath as soon as his fingers left her throat. The first bouncer wrenched the knife out of his bleeding palm with an agonised gasp and made towards Peter, who swiftly spun around and landed a kick in his mid section, sending him flying back.

Tink aimed the grappling hook into the ledge and, once secure, made her way down the side of the building. By the time her feet touched the pavement, the struggle was over. Tiger Lily was sitting on the ground, and Peter was crouching in front of her, gently moving the stray wisps of hair out of her bloodied face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he said, and Tiger nodded weakly. When he heard Tink approach, he surged to his feet, face growing hard. "What the _hell_ was that?" Peter demanded, taking a few steps towards her. "I told you to look out for trouble! Where were you, Tink?"

"I was on the roof, where I was supposed to be," she replied calmly. "There was no trouble. Hook drove away."

"No trouble?!" Peter shouted, beside himself with rage. "Then what do you call that, huh?" His hand sweeped behind to Tiger Lily, still trying to catch her breath.

Tink shrugged nonchalantly. "I was there to look out for you, not for her."

Peter's face contorted in anger, but before he could reply a group of young women exited the Piano Bar, almost tripping over the unconscious bodies. One of them screamed.

Peter and Tink exchanged a tense glance, then he hissed, "This is not over." He scooped up Tiger Lily and sank into the shadows. Tink quickly did the same, hearing the women dial 911.

Not even ten minutes later, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Peter.

 ** _Shack_** **.**

When Tink got there, the place was dark and empty. She took a coke out of the fridge and lounged back in his kitchen chair, ankles crossed atop the wooden table. Twenty minutes went by, and she was just starting to nod off when Peter stomped in angrily, slamming the door shut behind him.

"You better have a damn good excuse," he said, cold fury emanating from him.

Tink took her feet off the table, starting to get annoyed herself. "Yeah, I do. You told me that shooting was a last resort."

"This necessitated a last resort, Tink!" he snapped. "Tiger almost died!"

Tink rolled her eyes, leaving the coke can on the table. "She's Big Chief's daughter; they would have just ruffled her hair a bit."

The glare Peter gave her was so enraged it surprised her. He'd never been that mad at her before, and it was all over that stupid _cow_. Tink's blood started to boil.

"Ruffled her hair?" Peter repeated, fists shaking at his side. "They stabbed her. Choked her. Broke her cheekbone."

Tink crossed her arms. "She's alive, isn't she? What's your problem?"

"This isn't a game, Tink!" Peter's hand slammed onto the table, knocking the coke can over. "You know what Hook said to her right before the attack? 'Give my regards to Coursing River'."

Tink's face paled, but she stood her ground. "I wasn't there to babysit your girlfriend. She purports to be able to take care of herself—"

"She was attacked and tazed by two professional thugs!" Peter exploded. "And you were there to look out for trouble! _Trouble_ , Tink! How could you be so careless? Do you even understand what would have happened if I hadn't gotten there when I did?"

"Oh who cares!" she exclaimed, shooting up to her feet. "Boo hoo, the princess got hurt — she's the one that organised this little break-in, she's the one that endangered herself, _and_ you, and—"

"I care, Tink!" he shouted, kicking one of the chairs. " _I_ care, damn it! I care about her, and you were going to just watch her die!" He paced back and forth, unable to stand still. "If it had been you asking me to look after Running Jackal, I would have risked my own life to protect him!"

Tink felt anger surge through her like hot lava. "Except that I _wouldn't_ ask you to risk your life for him!"

"That's not the point!"

"Yes, it is! You think it's fine to ask me to stick out my neck for strangers, do you?"

"I would do it for you!"

"And I _did_ do it!" Tink felt all the frustration that had been building up inside her for the last few months reach a tipping point and overflow. "For _you_ , Peter! Even though I didn't agree with it, even though I thought it was stupid, and reckless, and unnecessarily risky! And I still went along with it, I helped you train for it, I gave you gear and I came to be your backup! Even though she's using you. Even though she doesn't deserve your help, or your affection, I helped and played a part in her little schemes, because _you_ asked me to! "

Peter ran a hand through his hair in a sharp, angry motion. "You always do that," he growled. "Stop saying that she's using me — you don't know her! You never made the _effort_ to get to know her! You're both like this, and frankly, I've had enough of this crap."

"Good, me too!" Tink exclaimed. "Just dump her already!"

"Dump _her_ because you were going to let her die?!"

"At least it would finally get her out of our lives! Should have shot her myself when I could!"

For a moment, he just stared at her, stunned. Deafening silence weighed in the air between them. Then his eyes dropped to the ground and he said, very quietly, "Get out."

"Seriously?" Tink exclaimed angrily, kicking the overturned chair. "You're taking her side _again_?!"

"That's enough," Peter said darkly. "Get out of my sight, Tinkerbell."

The use of her full name surprised her. The anger left her like air out of a punctured balloon. "You want me to leave?" she asked, her voice soft, scared.

Without an answer, Peter turned towards the staircase. When his foot reached the first step he stopped, put a hand on the railing and said, "Go. And don't come back."

Tink stared at his back, completely thunderstruck.

Her eyes followed him as he continued up the stairs, but her vision was quickly becoming blurred with tears. When she could no longer see clearly, Tink made a dash for the door.


	6. Chapter 6

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6**

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP_

A hand rose above the pale green sheets, gently pressing the button atop the alarm clock. The room quieted.

Tink sat up in her bed. A gentle breeze blew in from the open window and twirled stray tresses of her dishevelled hair, which fell down her back in a golden mess. She looked out. White clouds lazily crawled across the sky, accompanied by the sounds of cars passing by on the street below.

Her eyes fell on the phone beside the pillow, where a red notification icon of a missed message glared in contrast to the starry sky wallpaper. She took it in one hand and unlocked it. A huge weight of disappointment squirmed in the pit of her stomach when she saw it wasn't from him. Slightly had sent her a video.

" _Happy Birthday to you_ ," a horrible choir of off key voices roared from the screen when she pressed play. " _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Tiiiiiink! Happy birthday to you!_ " The Lost Boys cheered loudly. She managed to make out the Twins' wolf whistles, and Slightly shouted over the others, " _No moping around tonight, Tink, we're going to have fun, so you better leave the blank stares at home!_" Tootles' face filled the screen. " _Listen, Tink, Running Jackal came in here to ask about you again. I think he's really concerned for you, so if he comes over today don't pretend you're not home again, okay?_ " There were muffled sounds of movement and Curly's grin showed up in front of the camera. " _It's a new day, Tink! Smile._ " Then Nibs appeared. " _We're picking you up at eight — no excuses this time!_ " Just before the footage cut off, she heard Second Twin's voice. " _Wait, don't we get to say—_ " Then the screen went black.

Tink stared at the phone. She'd forgotten it was today.

Her eyes turned to the sky again, almost surprised to find no stars there. Three weeks then, she thought. It had been three weeks. They'd never gone this long without talking. Never.

She looked back at the phone. Going out… Tink didn't feel like it, but the Boys were relentless when they wanted to be annoying. She heard Curly's voice replay in her head. _It's a new day, Tink! Smile._

But she couldn't.

With slow, deliberate movements, Tink brushed away the covers and got out of bed, the phone forgotten somewhere between the sheets. She stood still for a moment, as if to get her bearings, then her bare feet padded over to the dresser. After another pause in front of it, she knelt down to the ground, and her eyes lingered on the bottom drawer. The 'Peter Drawer', as she called it. Her fingers reached for the knob, almost hesitantly. Objects rolled around inside as she pulled it open. Her fingers brushed over Peter's old harmonica and a pretty red feather he'd given her once upon a time, before picking up a long bundle wrapped in green cloth. She took it in her lap and pulled on the string that bound it. From inside, she took out a shiny, polished dagger with a curved handle.

Tink watched the sunlight reflect off the blade and finally felt her lips stretch in a tiny smile. Peter's 'sword'. She'd been keeping this for him ever since he got arrested, and because he didn't want anything to do with crime anymore, she'd never had the chance to give it back. Holding it in both hands, Tink stared at the dagger, thinking. Maybe, if she gave him this as a peace offering, he'd forgive her. Maybe if she said she was sorry, they'd patch things up. He didn't really mean it, he couldn't have, there was no way a bond stretching back more than ten years would be so easily broken.

With a vague plan in mind, Tink stood up and got dressed. It was her birthday. He had to at least talk to her, and if she could get him talking, she could get him to come around, she knew she could.

Only half an hour later, she was already at the beach, making her way to the Surf Shack, dagger in hand. When she got close enough, Tink noticed some movement at his window. She stopped, having glimpsed a black glint of hair. In Peter's kitchen, Tiger Lily sat atop the counter, bare naked. She was giggling, kicking playfully at something beyond Tink's line of vision. Then Peter himself appeared from the side, a mixing bowl in his arms. He was making Tiger breakfast, Tink realised. Peter seemed to be naked from the waist up himself, as he laughed at whatever Tiger had just said, leaning in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, and he abandoned the bowl in favour of putting his hands on her hips.

The dagger slipped from Tink's hand, sinking into the sand. Something ached in her chest as she watched Tiger's fingers thread through his hair, something hot and cold at the same time, heavy and sticky. It was like watching a disaster — she wanted to look away, but she just… couldn't.

It wasn't just the fact that he was kissing Tiger that hurt — Tink had seen him lock lips with plenty of girls before. What hurt, what really hurt, was how _normal_ he seemed. Peter didn't miss her. He wasn't thinking about her, probably didn't even remember that it was her birthday. He had obviously spent the night with Tiger without the slightest care in the world, and the fact that he hadn't seen Tink in weeks didn't weigh on him at all.

And Tink... Tink...

The realisation that hit her was like a thunderbolt out of the clear, blue sky, and she sank to her knees, eyes glued to the kissing couple.

Tink was in love with Peter.

Oh, she'd lied to herself that it hadn't gone beyond a strong friendship, that she loved him like a big brother, but it wasn't true. She'd pretended to be protective of him, but in reality she'd been nothing but possessive, greedy and selfish. Everything was so clear to her now. She'd wanted him to herself, and that was the real reason she hated Tiger so much. Because he preferred her. Because, unlike the endless string of girls he took on dates around the city, Tiger meant something to him. She wasn't just another girl.

Why, Tink asked herself, why had she been denying the truth all this time? She loved him, and he loved someone else, and she had selfishly tried to rip that away from him. Was that what had happened that night? No, Tink argued with herself, she had been following orders, she wasn't there to be a babysitter!

But that was bullshit.

If that had been a Lost Boy or Running Jackal down there, she would have abandoned her post to help them. The truth was that she'd wanted to get rid of Tiger Lily, without even considering what that would mean for Peter.

How could she have been so selfish? Why had she been so cruel to a girl whose worst crime had been capturing his affection? And for what? She couldn't force him to love her.

Tears slid down Tink's face. A gust of wind sent sand whipping at her, and she broke out of her trance. She stood up, wiping the tears and firmly turning her back to the Shack, walking away.

Peter didn't miss her.

Peter didn't need her.

 _Her_ Peter… didn't even think about her.

And he was never hers to begin with.

* * *

o

"Get your ass down here, Tink!" came a booming voice from outside. "It's time to go!"

Tink glanced out her window and down to the street, where the Lost Boys were waiting — Slightly, Nibs, Tootles and Curly in the Jeep, and the Twins on their bikes.

"Gimme a sec, I'll be right there," she shouted at them, then slipped on her black leather jacket and reached for the biker boots. Minutes later, when she emerged from the building, the Boys greeted her with cheers and congratulations.

"We've got the booze; hop on the bike and try not to choke on my dust," Slightly called from the Jeep's driver seat, grinning.

Tink scoffed, swinging a leg over her bike and putting on her green helmet. "Like you could get anywhere before me if I knew where we were going."

Some of the Boys snickered, and the Twins' bikes roared beneath them. The Jeep took off, followed closely by the three bikes, and they drove down the dirty, grey streets of the city. To Tink's surprise, the ride wasn't very long, and it took them down a painfully familiar road.

Still, it was only when the vehicles came to a stop at the edge of the beach that she took off the helmet and said, "Where the hell did you bring me?"

"The beach," Second Twin said, coming to a stop next to her and turning the engine off. "You love it here."

Tink snorted derisively. "Yeah, and from all the places on the _entire_ coastline, you just _happened_ to bring me next to the Surf Shack."

The Lost Boys got off the Jeep and all turned to the Shack. Its windows were dark, and there was no sign of life inside.

Slightly frowned. "I told him to meet us here. So where the hell is he?"

"We thought... because it's your birthday..." Tootles said uncertainly.

Tink shook her head. There was no way for them to know how much this would hurt her. "If you left him a voicemail, he hasn't heard that," she said evenly. "Peter never checks the voicemail."

The Boys exchanged guilty looks.

"We should have called him again..." Nibs said.

"Wouldn't help," Tink cut him off, getting off the bike. "He doesn't want to see me." Then she reached into the back seat of the Jeep, pulling a bottle of cider from the plastic bag nestled there. "Well, come on," she beckoned to her friends, already walking towards the crashing waves. "He doesn't own the beach."

The Boys exchanged a look but grabbed the rest of the bags and trailed after her. They soon found their old campfire spot, and Slightly and the Twins went off in search of driftwood. Tink just sat on the sand, looking out towards the sea, occasionally bringing the bottle of cider to her lips. Curly, Nibs and Tootles opened a few beers and lined up next to her.

She glanced at Nibs' bottle. "Did you get the cider just for me?"

"Duh," he replied. "You and Peter are the only weirdos we know that don't drink beer."

Tink chuckled. She'd never taken to beer, mostly because Peter disliked it. It was funny, really, how much of her life he had shaped. "Aw. You guys are the sweetest thugs ever." Tootles and Nibs chuckled, and Curly punched her shoulder playfully. "So, what have you been up to lately? Anything interesting?"

"Oh, uh… nothing in particular, same old, same old," Curly said hastily, avoiding her gaze as he took another sip from his drink.

Tink immediately raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Okay, what did you do this time?"

Curly choked on the beer. "It wasn't my fault!"

Tink, Tootles and Nibs exchanged a look. That was what Curly usually said when he got into trouble. Which was often.

"Curly..." Tink said warningly.

"Fine, okay," Curly admitted, looking down at the ground like a guilty puppy. "I know you said we shouldn't, but he kind of caught me on the street and I couldn't say no..."

" _What did you do?_ " Tink repeated.

"I, uh..." Curly reached into the inside of his jacket and produced a small computer chip. "I did a job for the Crocodile."

Nibs and Tootles simply stared in shock, but Tink was quick to grab the chip.

"What did I say about working with that psycho?" she scolded him. "We have reasonable grounds to suspect he was the one that tipped the cops about Peter the night he got caught. You want to go to jail for five years?"

Curly's head hung even lower. "I know, Tink, but he'd done me a favour before, and he came collecting..."

Tink sighed. If the Crocodile cornered him, she could hardly blame Curly — or anyone who had a self-preservation instinct — for saying yes. "It's fine," she said, pocketing the chip. "I'll take care of this, but I don't want any more contact between you and that guy, understand?"

Curly nodded quickly. "Thanks, Tink."

He sounded relieved at not having to deal with the Crocodile anymore, and Tink tried to shift the conversation to a lighter subject.

"What about you?" she asked Tootles, bumping her shoulder into his playfully. "Any stupid choices on your part I need to fix?"

"Not really," Tootles said.

"Unless you count your stupidly futile efforts to top the scoreboard," Nibs quipped.

"Meaning?" Tink asked, already amused.

Nibs snickered. "He's made it his goal to beat Peter's All Time High Score in Skee-ball, but he's still 20 points short."

"Running Jackal interrupted my last throw!" Tootles protested. "I know I can do it! But speaking of Ru—"

"Oh, no, enough of this, Tootles," Tink interrupted with a scowl. "I'm tired of hearing about it."

"Then stop being such a bitch to the poor guy!" Nibs snapped. "He's been coming by almost every night in the hopes of seeing you. Roll your eyes all you want, but it's clear that he cares about you. Either throw him a bone or let him off your hook!"

Tink's eyes remained fixed on the setting sun as she thought over her answer. "I do care about Jack," she said finally. "I care about him a lot, both as a friend and as an ally. But I can't give him what he wants. I can't… love him the way he wants me to."

"... Then tell him," Nibs said quietly. "He deserves to know."

She didn't reply. A few minutes passed by as the four of them just sat there in silence, watching the sun slowly sink into the sea.

"They say," Tink said thoughtfully after a while, looking up at the sky, "that the stars are different when you look at them from another country. I wonder if it's true..."

"The stars are the same," Nibs said. "It's the angle you're looking at them that's different."

"The angle..." Tink replied. "Yeah... I think I just need... a new angle."

Before she had the chance to elaborate, Slightly and the Twins called out to them, making their way across the sea line, dragging a bunch of big, gnarled branches behind them. Tink and the Boys leaped up to help them. Soon a cheerful blue fire was crackling in the makeshift fire pit, and Slightly was passing over sausages to be roasted over it.

"Make the fire green, Tink," Curly said once his sausage was securely suspended above the fire.

"Yeah, we want to see the magic again!" Tootles chimed in enthusiastically.

Tinkerbell laughed. "I don't have my magic dust with me," she quipped. Said 'magic dust' was actually some powdered copper chloride she used to keep in a jar. Once upon a time, Peter had convinced the Boys that Tink was actually a fairy and that the beach was magical, which was why the bonfires they made there were blue. In reality, it was the amount of sodium and calcium chloride contained in the driftwood that gave it its unusual colour.

"I think I prefer the blue, actually," Nibs said.

"Peter liked it green..." Curly said wistfully, immediately earning a hard punch in the shoulder from Slightly.

" _Shut up_ , you idiot," Slightly growled.

Tink laughed, but there was no joy in it. "Leave him alone, Slightly. You know his mouth-to-brain filter is non-existent." Besides... she wasn't getting reminded of Peter. She'd never stopped thinking about him. "I'll get you some magic dust, Curly," Tink said, staring thoughtfully into the flames. "Then you'll be able to make it any colour you want... purple... red... green..."

Nibs laughed. "I don't think it's a good idea to give Curly that much power. He'd find _some_ way to set himself on fire."

Curly grinned sheepishly, and the other Boys joined in with the usual teasing.

"If Curly had to take care of a goldfish, he'd find a way to drown it!" Slightly laughed.

"If Curly worked the Graveyard shift, he'd end up with a sunburn," First Twin said with a smirk.

Then Second Twin swiftly added, "If Curly somehow scored a date, he'd lose her in a crowd… oh wait, that actually happened."

With a roar, Curly launched to the right and tackled Second Twin to the ground, rolling over in the sand. The rest of the Boys cheered loudly, alternating between egging them on and laughing.

Tink, however, only smiled fondly. "I'm gonna miss you guys."

The squabbling stopped.

"Are you going somewhere?" Tootles asked as Second Twin got off Curly.

"Yeah," Tink said, watching the blue flames dance.

"When are you gonna be back?" Nibs said, but Slightly cut in with,

"And when were you gonna tell us?"

"I don't know yet," Tink replied to Nibs, completely ignoring Slightly. "But I leave tomorrow. Morning. I just need..." Her eyes wandered up to the sky. "A new angle."

"Is this because of Peter?" Slightly exploded. "Holy crap, Tink, it's just a fight! He'll get over it!"

"Will he?" she said quietly. Then her gaze met his and she added, "Should he?"

Nibs scowled. "What are you on about, Tink?"

"Yeah," Tootles chimed in. "You're kind of scaring us."

Tink stared at the fire again. How would she even being to explain? She'd been thinking about this all day, about how jealous and petty she'd been and how unrequited her love was, swinging between crying her eyes out and wanting to punch the walls. It hadn't been... _easy_ for her to process this truth. For years she had justified her actions to herself as protectiveness, but all this time she hadn't wanted what was best for Peter. She'd wanted what was best for herself.

"Look, Boys... I don't think there's coming back from what I did. Besides..." Tink paused. "I think it'll be... good for me. Peter's right; we can't be kids forever. It's time for me to grow up too."

"Bullshit!" Slightly spat.

"You just want to run away," Tootles added calmly.

Tink looked at him silently. Maybe it was because the two of them had been the youngest for such a long time, but there was something very kindred about Tootles — he could always read her like an open book.

"Maybe I do," she admitted. "But that doesn't change anything. For years now the only thing that's been keeping me in this shithole was Peter. Now that he doesn't need me anymore... I'm free to go wherever I want."

"Peter does need you, Tink," First Twin said. "Yeah, he's mad, but he's Peter. He'll come around."

Tink shook her head. "Even if he does... I need to clear my head. I've been doing a lot of thinking the last few days, and it's not just about Peter. It's about me. I need to figure out a few things about myself, and I can't do that here."

For a full minute, no one spoke. The blue fire crackled merrily between them, but the faces surrounding it were more than a little grim.

"What about the Lost Boys?" Second Twin asked.

"Nibs will lead," Tink replied without missing a beat.

Slightly choked on his beer. " _This_ idiot? Why him?!"

Tink pointed to Tootles, the Twins and Curly in turn. "Too sweet, too indecisive, gets in waaay too much trouble, and you," she added towards Slightly, "are too head-strong."

"Peter was head-strong!" Slightly rebutted immediately.

"Peter was _fearless_ ," Tink corrected him. "But he was competent, and he wasn't a show off that blows up at the slightest provocation." Okay, maybe he would swoop in to save them at the very last moment to make it more interesting (and make himself look more heroic), but he wasn't reckless. "Nibs is the most level-headed of you idiots, so he's my replacement."

Nibs just stared at her, thunderstruck.

"Tink," Curly said. "You can't leave us. First we lose Peter and now you… it's not fair."

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes. "Geez, you talk like I'm about to die." She took a sip from her cider. "Relax, guys. It's just… a vacation."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be appointing a successor," Tottles noted.

Tink frowned. Sometimes she wished he wasn't _that_ perceptive. "I said that when Peter left, and I'll say it again — this is not up for debate." Looking at all the sad faces surrounding her, Tink softened a bit. "It'll be okay. I'll still keep in touch, and I'll be back eventually." To visit, if nothing else. She just needed some space, some time away from this place, away from Peter. A new start.

"But why him?" Slightly insisted.

Tink threw a handful of sand at him. "Oh, stop whining! Nibs is a quick thinker; you're quick to throw punches. If I say he's the leader, then he's the leader!"

The Twins snickered as Slightly coughed from the bit of sand that landed in his mouth.

Suddenly, Tink felt Tootles tense next to her. Following his gaze, she spotted three figures slowly crossing the beach, headed straight for them. The other Boys noticed as well, but it was only when the intruders were close enough for the flames to illuminate their faces that Slightly put a hand on his knife.

"Out for a walk in the moonlight?" Tink said casually as a way of greeting.

The man in the middle chuckled. He was a pale guy, tall and lanky, with a curtain of black shoulder-length hair that he liked to keep in a ponytail. His name was Snake, and he was the leader of a gang known as The Wild Beasts, a large and persistently annoying group of thugs, who, like the Lost Boys, didn't use their real names but were nicknamed by the current leader. However, while Peter had nicknamed the Boys based on some sort of quirk they had, the Beasts just took on the moniker of whichever wild animal they resembled most. Some — like the Crocodile — kept that name even after they broke away from the gang.

Right now, Snake stood before the Lost Boy's bonfire, flanked by two Lions. Tink had always wondered how they told the Lions apart — at least their Twins were called First and Second.

"We were, when we noticed your blue fire," Snake replied, mouth stretching into his signature smirk. "It's been a long time since I spotted one of those."

"So you came to sniff out prey?" Tink said with a scoff. She tossed a package of sausages at them. "Here. Go digest it somewhere else." Right Lion caught it in his hand and, hilariously, sniffed it. The Lost Boys sniggered.

"Thanks, but we didn't come for the food," Snake said. "Some recent... _news_ have reached my ears, and I wanted to talk to you, Tink."

Tink kept up the unimpressed face. "If you want to gossip, go to the Mermaid's Lagoon. We're in the middle of something."

"Trust me, _this_ you'll want to hear," Snake said, leering at her. "It's about a certain Redskin."

Tink frowned. Her first thought was Running Jackal, and the idea that he might be involved with the Beasts immediately made her uneasy. "Fine," she said. "Talk."

"Well, I was hoping to have a chat somewhere more... private," Snake said, the slimy grin still plastered on his face. "You know, leader to leader."

Nibs huffed. "No way in hell."

"You're not my replacement _yet_ , Nibs," Tink said, getting to her feet. "I don't need your permission." Then she added to Snake, "Is by that shack private enough for you?"

The other Boys didn't seem too pleased about this, but no one spoke up. Snake gave a brief nod to the two Lions, who remained behind while he followed her to the shadowy outline of the Surf Shack. Once they reached it, Tink crossed her arms, leaned against the wall and stared at him expectantly.

He put his arm to the building, leaning over her. "So, I've heard you and Pan had a falling out," he started.

"Last time I checked, he was not a Redskin," Tink cut him off. "Say what you've come here to say."

"Feisty," Snake noted, still grinning. "Alright, Miss Let's-Get-Down-To-Business. I want to talk about Tiger Lily."

Tink huffed. "And you think I do too?" At least that meant that Running Jackal hadn't gotten involved with these weirdos.

"I think you do," Snake said, leaning in a little closer. "You've never made your feelings about her a secret. And, given the recent fight between you and Pan, I'm guessing there isn't a lot of warm feelings between you two, either." Tink's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. "Well... it just so happens that I'm not too fond of the Native Princess, myself. Pan has always been a pain in the ass, but in a fight he's proven to be—"

Tink snorted. "Too good?" That particular gang didn't have the best track record against him. Once Peter had drawn a line in the sand on this very beach, challenging the Beasts to fight him. Not one of them crossed it.

Snake kept smiling, but his eyes turned cold. "Hard to deal with," he finished. "It's well-known how loyal you are to him, but seeing as he threw you away like a used tissue... I was hoping you might see things my way."

"Get to the point, Snake," Tink snapped.

"I want to get back at Tiger Lily," he said, words dripping with venom and honey. "Teach that arrogant whore a lesson."

"Aw, what's the matter," Tink drawled. "The prom queen won't go on a date with you? Poor baby."

"She insulted me," Snake hissed. "And she needs to learn that being Big Chief's daughter doesn't mean she can treat men like trash."

"You _are_ trash, Snake," Tink said flatly. "And you're a bitter loser. What did you come to me for? You want me to beat her up for you?"

"Well, I'd let you get a few punches in, but I want to be the one to break that haughty face of hers." Tink raised an eyebrow, but Snake continued, "I know that Pan fucks her, but now that the two of you have parted ways, I assume that you wouldn't be as eager to follow his orders. I heard—" He leaned in even closer, and Tink had to resist the urge to punch him. "—that she's the reason he broke off ties with you. Don't tell me you don't want to get back at her as much as I do."

Tink chuckled, a mirthless, dark sound. Then, without warning, her fist collided with his jaw, and he fell sideways into the sand. The two Lions bolted through the beach, closely followed by the Lost Boys, and once they reached the Shack, the gang members formed a tight semicircle around their two leaders.

"In case my fist wasn't loud enough for you, let me make myself clearer," Tink said, kneeling down and picking the delirious Snake up by the front of his shirt. "If you touch one black, salon-shiny hair on Tiger Lily's head, _I will end you_." Tink shoved Snake back into the ground and stood up. "Slightly," she said. "Give me that knife."

The Lions exchanged a panicked look, but the Twins were upon them before they could attack, locking them in a tight hold. Snake rolled over on his stomach with a groan, though it was clear that his head was still too rattled from that punch to get up.

Slightly handed Tink the knife, and she ran the blade across her palm, leaving a trail of red blood to drip down her wrist as she held it up to Nibs. "A Blood Oath. You're my successor, so swear to me, right now, that Tiger Lily will always be under Lost Boys protection, or I'll give the job to someone who will."

The men around her stared in confusion. Nibs remained silent for a moment, before stepping forward and taking the knife. Without so much as a flinch, he made a cut across his palm and took Tink's hand.

"I swear," he said, looking her straight in the eye, "that as long as I can help it, Tiger Lily will always be under Lost Boys protection."

Tink squeezed his hand. "If you break that vow... I'll break your face."

Nibs' gaze was deadly serious. "I know."

* * *

o

Hours later, after spending the rest of the night roasting sausages around the blue campfire and having a drink with her friends, Tink zoomed down the dark, empty streets of the city on her bike, riding towards her last stop. Just one more errand. One more task, and in the morning she would leave it all behind.

No more life of crime, no more running from Hook or looking over her shoulder for the cops, no more trying to launder the dirty money.

No more Lost Boys. No more Neverland.

No more Peter Pan.

Tink brought the bike into a stop under the glowing neon sign of the Crocodile's carwash. She took off her helmet and looked up to the stars.

"A new sky..." she said, almost wistfully. Then her eyes fell to the door under the sign. "A new me."

She'd been chasing after Peter's dreams for so long, she'd forgotten what it was like to have her own. But tomorrow, tomorrow everything would be different. The pain, the guilt, all of her failures and faults, she could leave them all behind and be somebody new. A waitress at a rest-stop, maybe. Or a mechanic. Or she could work in a carwash. Just not this one.

Tink unzipped her jacket, getting off the bike. She crossed the sidewalk and put a hand on the doorknob, then turned around once again and looked at the stars. Maybe when she came back Peter would be settled down. Maybe with a family. Would it be okay to visit, she wondered. Or would she check on him from afar? Her eyes returned to the door, and she smiled. It didn't really matter. As long as he was happy.

But for him to be happy, she had to get out of his way.

Tink turned the knob. She wasn't stupid enough to think that she would ever forget Peter Pan. Or that she would ever stop loving him. But maybe, just maybe, some distance would help her learn to live with it.

"I hope you find what you're looking for, Peter," she whispered to herself and entered the Crocodile's lair.


	7. Chapter 7

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 7**

As always, the Crocodile's office was full of smoke.

"Those cigars will kill you if you keep going at this rate, you know," Tink said, her steps syncing with the ticks of the great grandfather clock.

The Crocodile looked up from his papers, surprised but pleased to see her. "I didn't expect you today, little fairy. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm just here to drop off Curly's debt," she said, placing the chip on the desk.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So business-minded," the Crocodile said, grinning as he took the chip and examined it with a magnifier. "Sit down, you haven't been around in months. I have a good bottle of rum around here somewhere..."

"Sorry," Tink said, zipping up her jacket. "Can't stay. I'm leaving early tomorrow."

"Leaving?" The Crocodile looked up. "For how long?"

"I'm not sure," Tink replied vaguely, turning around to face the door. "It' been real, Crock."

"I really don't think you want to do that," he said, making her stop. "Not tonight." With his deep, rumbling timbre, even well-meaning words sounded vaguely like a threat. She couldn't tell where he was going with this.

"Is there something else I'd rather be doing tonight?" Tink asked as she turned around, keeping the tone light but not letting her guard down.

The Crocodile took a long drag from his cigar and dropped some ash into the big, crystal ashtray. "I may have some information you might be interested in, about certain goings on this very night. But you don't become a successful businessman by giving things away for free."

Tink rolled her eyes. "I'm not paying for information without knowing if it's worth my time."

"Would you say that Peter is worth your time?"

Tink stared at the strangely serious face of her old business associate. "How much do you want?" she said finally, pulling out her wallet.

"Oh, I want nothing as trivial as money," the Crocodile said, putting the chip away in a drawer of his desk and leaning forward on the wooden surface. "If you want my gossip… you must tell me some of yours. I heard you and Peter had a falling out."

Tink huffed in frustration. "Why are we suddenly the talk of the underground? Yes, we had a fight. What of it?"

The Crocodile shrugged his massive shoulders in a way that might have looked nonchalant on someone who was not built like a bear, but on him it looked more like he was flexing his muscles. "It seems odd to be running away after one fight. You have a funny way of repaying him for saving your ass from a life on the streets."

"He was the one that told me to get out of his sight!" Tink snapped, immediately regretting that little outburst. The Crocodile's beady yellow eyes stared at her with a rare intensity. "It doesn't matter," she added quickly. "It's best for us both if we had a little distance. He doesn't need me."

"Hmmm," the Crocodile drawled, taking another long drag from the cigar, then puffing out a cloud of thick, grey smoke. "That's not the impression I was under."

"I don't really give a rat's ass about your impressions," Tink bit back. "You don't know a thing about us."

"I know what becomes of Peter when he's separated from you. Do you?"

"What is that supposed to mean? Since when are you and him bosom buddies?"

"I'm a businessman, Tink," the Crocodile said, leaning back into his leather chair. "There are a million guys out there that trade in shiny objects. Me? I also trade in secrets. And I just so happen to have in my collection Peter's greatest sin… The one desperate move that won him Hook's hatred."

"What are you talking about?"

He took another drag. "I'm talking about the man Peter killed."

Tink stared at him in shock for a few moments before finally declaring, "Your informants are shit. Peter has done a lot of things, but he's never crossed that line. He's not a killer."

"Perhaps you're right," the Crocodile conceded with a small nod. "Or perhaps you're wrong. Would you like to find out?" He gestured towards the empty chair on the other side of his desk.

Hesitating for a minute, Tink walked over to it and sat down. "Explain," she demanded.

The Crocodile took another drag from his cigar and held it over the ashtray. "A few years ago, I did a small favour for a member of the Redskin gang. When I came collecting, he didn't have anything valuable enough for me to accept as retribution, so he had to pay me with a secret. Being the Big Chief's messenger, I had hoped for something juicy regarding his boss, but he was unwilling to compromise his position."

Tink's heart skipped a beat. The Crocodile's informant was Running Jackal?

"I was, however, willing to accept a suitably dark secret regarding someone else. The boy wasn't very cooperative, but in the end he decided that Peter's 'secret' was well-known enough that it wouldn't be so bad if I learned it too. You see, he was not the only witness to these events. The story he told me starts many years ago, and I assure you that it has been vital to the way I have treated both you and Peter once I finally met you."

Tink didn't know what to think about this. The Crocodile was menacing, unpredictable and greedy, but he'd never been openly hostile. How had this information shaped their interactions? Running Jackal wasn't in the habit of spinning tales, so whatever secret he told… was most likely true.

"It all started… with a party," the Crocodile continued, staring at the swaying pendulum of his clock. "After the Big Chief's daughter was heroically saved by the Lost Boys' leader, Peter Pan, an alliance had been forged between the two gangs. Big Chief's messenger had just lost his sister and was not really in the party mood. Going outside for a smoke, he came across Pan's right hand, a young girl whose laugh tinkled like a bell." Tink held in a huff of annoyance. Was it really necessary for Jack to share _that_ particular bit? "The two got to talking, when they were rudely interrupted by two men who kidnapped the girl and beat the messenger into oblivion." Tink's stomach twisted into knots. "When he came to, the party had long been over, and the day was well into its noon hour. He remembered that the men had mentioned Hook and ran to Pan, relaying the events of the night. Pan quickly tried to organise a rescue, but there were a few problems. First, there had been some sort of drug slipped into the beer that had been passed around at the party, meaning that most of the members of his gang, and numerous Redskins, were out of commission."

Tink wanted to laugh. Beer. Hook had poisoned _the beer_! Peter had never been in danger of his stupid drug!

"Very few felt well enough to help with the rescue, but the bigger problem Pan faced was that he didn't know where the girl had been taken — Hook had a lot of warehouses and other properties where he could have been holding her. With decreased manpower and such a wide search area, the odds were not in his favour. Still, Pan pressed on, sending Redskin scouts on quick reconnaissance missions to strategic locations. After hours of searching, a scout reported seeing Mr Smee, one of the kidnappers, but the warehouse he was at turned out to be heavily guarded. Everyone told him it was suicide, but Pan's resolve didn't waver. He called out the Redskins on their honour, and asked if the alliance only extended to partying. Of course, the Big Chief ordered all that could stand to follow Pan and aid him in his efforts. Unfortunately… the girl was not there."

The constant ticking of the grandfather clock was being drowned out by Tink's own pulse. She felt like her heart was about to jump out from her chest.

"They did, however, manage to capture Smee and bring him to the Casino for questioning. The interrogation took hours. Pan started getting more and more agitated the longer he was without her. He became more short-tempered, less rational. Mr Smee eventually told him that Hook was attempting to learn the location of their hideout, a place called Neverland, and that the last time he'd seen the girl was when he left her alone with Hook and 'his tools', though he stubbornly refused to disclose where. Pan lost his mind. He hit him so hard that the man lost consciousness, and then paced back and forth like a caged animal, realising he'd just knocked out his only lead. Time was running out. In a final gamble, Pan planted an iPad in a Hook warehouse, hoping to negotiate. Mr Smee was Hook's right hand, so the plan was simple — a hostage for a hostage. Or, it would have been simple, had Pan not been dealing with a ruthless bastard like Hook."

Tink's mind was reeling. She tried to think back to that night, tried to remember what she'd heard about Mr Smee, but it was all a blur of pain and blood.

"The plan worked, and the iPad reached Hook. Pan tried to talk to him, to arrange an exchange. Hook… didn't seem too interested. He taunted Pan, telling him of the pain he'd inflicted on the girl, of how she'd been suffering, how she'd called out his name through sobs and begged for mercy… That didn't sit well with the already unhinged and desperate Pan. He put a gun to Smee's head and demanded that the girl be returned to him, or there would be blood. Hook warned him that this would mean war. Pan didn't care. When Hook refused once again, he pulled the trigger. Hook coldly informed him that there were consequences to every action, and that it was going to be an eye for an eye. A hand for a hand. The connection dropped, and Pan just stood there, frozen, terrified of what Hook would do as retribution. Luckily for him, the messenger had been trying to trace the signal."

Tears stung the corners of Tinkerbell's eyes. She couldn't believe this. Had Peter really gone to such lengths for her? Had he lost his cool to such a degree? Had he… killed?

"Again Pan was told it was suicide. That they were all tired and running on no sleep, that another raid would end with all of them dead. Again Pan declared that he didn't care, that he would storm Hook's stronghold by himself if he had to, but he wouldn't wait for anyone. Only Tiger Lily was brave enough to stand beside him and urge her people to follow. With a small squad, they infiltrated the fortress in search of the girl, but all they found was a bloodied floor and a knocked out guard. They regrouped with the rest of the Lost Boys and the Big Chief back at the Casino, and Pan just disappeared, saying that he would look for the girl on his own."

Tink remembered waking up in darkness to a reassuring whisper and a soft caress. _I have_ ** _never_** _abandoned you_ , Peter had said on the top of Hook Tower. _Ever_.

"When he returned," the Crocodile continued, tapping the cigar over the crystal ashtray, "he was smiling brightly, as if all he'd ever wanted had come true at once. The girl had been found, the poisoned gang members were starting to regain consciousness, and it looked like it was all going to be okay. Of course, Pan and Hook never forgot that night, and each hated the other with burning passion from that moment on." Having finally finished the story, the Crocodile looked to Tink, who was trying very hard to keep the tears from sliding down her cheeks. "That man, Smee," he added quietly, "impregnated my sister and broke her heart by walking out on her. I'd have skewered him myself if I'd gotten the chance; Pan did me a solid by killing him. That's why… I want to repay him." Pulling a pen and paper from somewhere in his drawers, the loan shark scribbled an address and slid it over the desk to Tink. "Tonight Peter will try to steal an important document from this address. It's a set up. Hook let some false information reach his ears, and he's waiting for him there."

Tink grabbed the note and furiously blinked away the tears blurring her vision. "And you wasted my time telling me stories?!" she exclaimed, shooting to her feet.

"You were about to leave," the Crocodile said, reclining back into the chair. "I told you you would regret it if you did."

"I don't have time for this!"

Tink bolted out the door, leaving a satisfied Crocodile to grin behind his heavy oaken desk.

Urgency thumped inside her with every hammering beat of her heart as she jumped on the bike and drove off, accelerating to unsafe speeds within seconds. Tink was probably lucky that traffic was pretty much non-existent this time of night — she wasn't really in a mood to wait for green lights.

As soon as she made it to the building, Tink hopped off and sprinted towards the solid double door but found it locked. The alarm was intact, which meant that Peter hadn't entered through here, or maybe he had and he was already captured? Tink kicked the wall in frustration — she didn't have _time_ for this! Running back to the bike, she popped open the compartment under the seat and took stock of her emergency arsenal. A pair of daggers, which she slid in her belt, multi-purpose goggles that she might have a use for, a roll of banknotes, some smoke bombs, her electronic hacker, a lockpick and a grappling hook. Taking the goggles and the grappling hook and leaving the rest behind, Tink closed the compartment and scoped the side of the structure for a good climbing spot.

The building was tall, ten floors as least, but she had no choice. Aiming the hook up, she pulled the trigger and managed to secure it to a window about halfway up. Climbing with a few bottles of cider in her system and no sleep wasn't easy, but Tink pressed on. Once she reached the window, she heard some sort of commotion inside.

A group of five thugs was stumbling along the office setting, chasing a shadow that flitted atop the desks with nimble grace, avoiding them and the blades flashing in their hands. Tink tried to get in, but the window hadn't been designed to open. She banged on it, but no one inside heard her. The shadow was backed into a corner and forced to flee upstairs. Tink aimed the grappling hook up once again, but when she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. She shook the stupid thing, cursing loudly. Why did it have to break _now_?! But there wasn't any time for getting angry; she had to keep going, had to find a way to Peter. Securing the useless thing to her belt, she continued to climb up from window to window, each time only getting a glimpse of the fight inside before they moved on. She didn't even bother to stop at the last two floors, figuring that there had to be some way inside from the roof.

Her limbs felt like they'd been filled with lead, but Tink finally managed to pop her head over the roof ledge, where she had to stop to catch her breath. Moments later, the roof door burst open and Peter ran out, whirling around to close it and secure it with some of her hardening foam — a spray can filled with a substance of her own design that turned harder than cement in seconds when exposed to oxygen. Tink smiled, surprisingly happy that he was still using her gadgets. A mistake which almost cost her dearly, as Peter bolted across the roof, only to step on a skylight which gave under his weight and swallowed him. Adrenaline and fear pumped through her veins as Tink pulled herself up and dashed towards the hole, finding Peter there, holding on with one bloody hand to the edge of the skylight. Wasting no time, she knelt down and pulled him out as Hook's thugs banged on the door.

"Tink—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Run now. Talk later."

He nodded, and the two of them sprinted towards the ledge.

"Now what?" he muttered, looking at the dark street below.

The door behind them gave out a groan as someone threw themselves against it. They whipped around, seeing cracks start to from in the hardening foam—it was never designed to last forever—and exchanged a look. Tink put on the goggles and scanned the surrounding area.

"There!" she said, pointing to the unfinished skeleton of a building on a construction site across the street. "The grappling hook should reach."

Peter grinned at her. "Looks like we have our way out."

Tink threw a look back at the door. "You go first," she said.

Peter didn't argue and aimed a shot at one of the support beams. Just as he was about to swing off, Tink threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Wha… Tink?"

"You'll always be my best friend, Peter," she muttered into his chest.

There was another loud bang at the door, and she knew they were close to breaking the foam. She pulled back to look at him, and a voice inside her head whispered, _Now or never._ Her arms loosened from his torso to wrap around his neck, and she kissed him. For only a moment everything just stopped, and it felt as if she'd never kissed anyone else before.

When she pulled away, all she saw on his face was surprise. "Go," Tink said, smiling. "And don't come back." Then she pushed him off, watching him swing on the hook.

The door shook behind her once again, and Tink pulled out the daggers. She saw Peter make it to the other side, heard him call her name. She smiled again, wanting to look at him for as long as she could, because she knew it would be the last time.

A final kick, and the hardening foam fell apart. The door swung on its hinges, and the five thugs spilled out and surrounded her.

"Looking for Peter Pan?" she taunted. "You're going to have to get through me first."

Her arms ached from the climb, her reflexes were slowed from the alcohol, and even with two weapons in her hands, there were simply too many of them to take on. Even if she wasn't sleep-deprived and tired, she probably wouldn't have made it.

Tink blocked the first two, three swings that came at her, but a kick nailed her in the back, sending her to one knee. She pushed up and made a wide arch with her weapon, and the dagger bit into someone. A blade sunk into her side. She gasped in pain, barely keeping herself from falling over. A punch in the gut knocked the air out of her, and she stumbled backwards, right into another one of the thugs, who stabbed her in the arm.

Tink sank to her knees, coughing up blood. The fight was pathetically short, she thought. She hadn't bought him much time at all.

As her face hit the cold, concrete floor, she vaguely registered the thugs running around, looking for signs of Peter. Then Tink heard one of them press the button on a walkie-talkie.

"We… have someone on the roof. It's not the target."

The five men surrounded her, but the finishing blow didn't come. Tink reached for whatever bits of strength she had left and propped herself up on her good elbow. That was when the roof door opened.

A polished pair of shoes stopped in front of her, and she looked up to find none other than James Hook, staring down at her.

"Ah," he said. "Miss Bell. We meet again."

Tink wanted to say something clever, but her throat was dry as a desert. She was too tired to think of a snarky comeback anyway.

"You are certainly not the one I expected to see tonight. I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me Peter Pan's location?"

Tink chuckled darkly, sputtering blood onto his spotless shoes. "Eat… shit," she croaked.

"I thought you might say that," Hook said with a sigh. Then he pulled out a gun and aimed it at her. "Twenty years old, and still no manners. However, I do admire your spirit. I don't wish to kill you, you understand. But the boy needs to learn about consequences."

He pulled the trigger.

Tink flattened against the cement once again. Blood pooled under her as she stared unseeingly at her own limp hand.

"What about the boy?" she heard Hook ask, his voice distant and muffled.

"He got away."

 _He got away. He got away. He got away._

The words somehow penetrated the thick veil of numbness falling over her, and Tink smiled. With her last breath, she whispered his name.

"Peter..."

And that was how the world ended.

Not with a bang.

With a whisper.


End file.
